5
be employed with equal success for the subversion of government ; and that specious arguments might be used against those things which they, who doubt of everything else, will never permit to be questioned.
be employed with equal success for the subversion of government ; and that specious arguments might be used against those things which they, who doubt of everything else, will never permit to be questioned.
Edmund Burke
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nicated that paper to any one out of the very small
circle of those private friends from whom I con
cealed nothing.
"But I beg you and my friends to be cautious how
you let it be understood that I disclaim anything but the mere act and intention of publication. I do not retract any one of the sentiments contained in that memorial, which was and is my justification, ad dressed to the friends for whose use alone I intended it. Had I designed it for the public, I should have been more exact and full. It was written in a tone of indignation, in consequence of the resolutions of the Whig Club, which were directly pointed against myself and others, and occasioned our secession from that club ; which is the last act of my life that I shall under any circumstances repent. Many tempera ments and explanations there would have been, if I had ever had a notion that it should meet the public
eye. "
In the mean time a large impression, amounting, it is believed, to three thousand copies, had been dis persed over the country. To recall these was im
to have expected that any acknowledged production of Mr. Burke, full of matter likcly to interest the future historian, could remain forever in obscurity, would have been folly; and to have passed it over in silent neglect, on the one hand, or, on the other, to have then made any considerable
? possible;
? ? ? X ADVERTISEMENT.
changes in might have seemed an abandonment of the principles which contained. The author, there fore, discovering, that, with the exception of the in troductory letter, he had not in fact kept any clean copy, as he had supposed, corrected one of the pam phlets with his_ own hand. From this, which was found preserved with his other papers, his friends afterwards thought their duty to give an authen tic edition.
The "Thoughts and Details on Scarcity" were originally presented in the form of memorial to Mr. Pitt. The author proposed afterwards to recast the same matter in new shape. He even adver tised the intended work under the title of " Let ters on Rural Economics, addressed to Mr. Arthur Young"; but he seems to have finished only two or three detached fragments of the first letter. These being too imperfect to be printed alone, his friends inserted them in the memorial, where they seemed best to cohere. The memorial had been
fairly copied, but did not appear to have been exam ined or corrected, as some trifling errors of the tran scriber were perceptible in it. The manuscript of the fragments was rough draft from the author's own hand, much blotted and very confused.
The Third Letter on the Proposals for Peace was in its progress through the press when the author died. About one half of was actually revised in print by himself, though not in the exact order of the
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pages as they now stand. He enlarged his first draft, and separated one great member of his subject, for the purpose of introducing some other matter be tween. The different parcels of manuscript designed to intervene were discovered. One of them he seemed to have gone over himself, and to have improved and augmented. The other (fortunately the smaller) was much more imperfect, just as it was taken from his mouth by dictation. The former reaches from the
two hundred and forty-sixth to near the end of the two hundred and sixty-second page ; the latter nearly occupies the twelve pages which follow. * No impor tant change, none at all affecting the meaning of any passage, has been made in either, though in the more imperfect parcel some latitude of discretion in subor dinate points was necessarily used.
There is, however, a considerable member for the greater part of which Mr. Burke's reputation is not responsible: this is the inquiry into the condition of the higher classes, which commences in the two hun dred and ninety-fifth pagesf The summary of the whole topic, indeed, nearly as it stands in the three hundred and seventy-third and fourth pages,:|Z was
*9 The former comprising the matter included between the para graph commencing, "I hear it has been said," 8m. , and that ending with the words, " there were little or no materials"; and the latter extending through the paragraph concluding with the words, " dis graced and plagued mankind. "
T At the paragraph commencing with the words, " In turning our view from the lower to the higher classes," 8w.
1 In the first half of the paragraph commencing, " If, then, the real state of this nation," &c.
? 1
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? ? ? xii ADVERTISEMENT.
found, together with a marginal reference to the Bankrupt List, in his own handwriting; and the actual conclusion of the Letter was dictated by him, but never received his subsequent correction. He had also preserved, as materials for this branch of his subject, some scattered hints, documents, and parts of a correspondence on the state of the country. lHe was, however, prevented from working on them
by the want of some authentic and official information,
for which he had been long anxiously waiting, in order to ascertain, to the satisfaction of the public, what, with his usual sagacity, he had fully antici pated from his own personal observation, to his own private conviction. At length the reports cf the dif ferent committees which had been appointed by the two Houses of Parliament amply furnished him with evidence for this purpose. Accordingly he read and considered them with attention: but for anything beyond this the season was now past. The Supreme Disposer of All, against whose inscrutable counsels it is vain as well asIimpious to murmur, did not permit him to enter on the execution of the task which he meditated. It was resolved, therefore, by one of his friends, after much hesitation, and under avery pain ful responsibility, to make such an attempt as he could at supplying the void; especially because the insuffi ciency of our resources for the continuance of the war was understood to have been the principal objection urged against the two former Letters on the Proposals
? ? ? ? ADVERTISEMENT. xiii
for Peace. In performing with reverential diflidence this duty of friendship, care has been taken not to attribute to Mr. Burke any sentiment which is not most explicitly known, from repeated conversations, and from much correspondence, to have been decid edly entertained by that illustrious man. One pas sage of nearly three pages, containing a censure of our defensive system, is borrowed from a private let ter, which he began to dictate with an intention of comprising in it the short result of his opinions, but which he afterwards abandoned, when, a little time before his death, his health appeared in some degree to amend, and he hoped that Providence might have spared him at least to complete the larger public let ter, which he then proposed to resume.
In the preface to the former edition of this Letter a fourth was mentioned as being in possession of Mr. Burke's friends. It was in fact announced by the author himself, in the conclusion of the second, which it was then designed tofollow. He intended, he said, to proceed next on the question of the facilities pos sessed by the French Republic, from the internal state of other nations, and particularly of this, for obtaining her ends,----and as his notions were controverted, to take notice of what, in that way, had been recom mended to him. The vehicle which he had chosen for this part of his plan was an answer to a pamphlet which was supposed to come from high authority, and was circulated by ministers with great industry, at the
? ? ? ? xiv anvnar1snnnnr.
time of its appearance, in October, 1795, immediately previous to that session of Parliament when his Ma jesty for the first time declared that the appearance of any disposition in the enemy to negotiate for gen eral peace should not fail to be met with an earnest
desire to give it the fullest and speediest effect. In truth, the answer, which is full of spirit and vivacity, was written the latter end of the same year, but was laid aside when the question assumed a more serious 'aspect, from the commencement of an actual negotiation, which gave rise to the series of printed letters. Afterwards, he began to rewrite with view of accommodating to his new purpose. The greater part, however, still remained in its original state and several heroes of the Revolution, who are there celebrated, having in the interval passed off the public stage, greater liberty of insertion and altera tion than his friends on consideration have thought allowable would be necessary to adapt to that place in the series for which was ultimately de signed by the author. This piece, therefore, ad dressed, as the title originally stood, to his noble
friend, Earl Fitzwilliam, will be given the first in the supplemental volumes which will be hereafter added to complete this edition of the author's works.
The tracts, most of them in manuscript, which have been already selected as fit for this purpose, will probably furnish four or five volumes more, to be printed uniformly with this edition. The principal
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piece is an Essay on the History of England, from the earliest period to the conclusion of the reign of King John. It is written with much depth of antiquarian research, directed by the mind of an intelligent states man. This alone, as far as can be conjectured, will form more than one volume. Another entire volume also, at least, will be filled with his letters to public men on public affairs, especially those of France. This supplement will be sent to the press without delay.
Mr. Burke's more familiar correspondence will be reserved as authorities to accompany a narrative of his life, which will conclude the whole. The period during which he flourished was one of the most mem orable of our annals. _ It comprehended the acquisi tion of one empire in the East, the loss of another in the West, and the total subversion of the ancient sys tem of Europe by the French Revolution, with all which events the history of his life is necessarily and intimately connected,--as indeed it also is, much more than is generally known, with the state of liter ature and the elegant arts. Such a subject of biog raphy cannot be dismissed with a slight and rapid touch; nor can it be treated in a manner worthy of
from the information, however authentic and ex tensive, which the industry of any one man may have accumulated. Many important communications have been received; but some materials, which relate to the pursuits of his early years, and which are known
? ? ? it,
? xvi ADVERTISEMENT.
to be in existence, have been hitherto kept back, not withstanding repeated inquiries and applications. It
therefore, once more earnestly requested, that all persons who call themselves the friends or admirers of the late Edmund Burke will have the goodness to transmit, without delay, any notices of that or of any other kind which may happen to be in their posses sion or within their reach, to Messrs. Rivingtons,--a respect and kindness to his memory which will be thankfully acknowledged by those friends to whom, in dying, he committed the sacred trust of his reputa tion.
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TO THE SECOND OCTAVO EDITION!
A NEW edition of the works of Mr. Burke having been called for by the public, the opportunity has been taken to make some slight changes, it is
hoped for the better.
A different distribution of the contents, while it has
made the volumes, with the exception of the first and sixth, more nearly equal in their respective bulk, has, at the same time, been fortunately found to produce a more methodical arrangement of the whole. The first and second volumes, as before, severally contain those literary and philosophical works by which Mr. Burke was known previous to the commencement of
his public life as a statesman, and the political pieces which were written by him between the time of his first becoming connected with the Marquis of Rock ingham and his being chosen member for Bristol. In the third are comprehended all his speeches and pamphlets from his first arrival at Bristol, as a can didate, in the year 1774, to his farewell address from the hustings of that city, in the year 1780.
* London, F. and C. Rivington, 1803. 8 vols. VOL. 1. 3
? ? ? ? xviii ADVERTISEMENT.
I What he himself published relative to the affairs of
India occupies the fourth volume. The remaining four comprise his works since the French Revolution, with the exception of the Letter to Lord Kenmare on the Penal Laws against Irish Catholics, which was probably inserted where it stands from its relation to the subject of the Letter addressed by him, at a later period, to Sir Hercules Langrishe. With the same exception, too, strict regard has been paid to chrono logical order, which, in the last edition, was in some instances broken, to insert pieces that were not dis covered till it was too late to introduce them in their proper places.
In the Appendix to the Speech on the Nabob of Arcot's Debts the references were found to be con fused, and, in many places, erroneous. This proba bly had arisen from the circumstance that a larger and differently constructed appendix seems to have been originally designed by Mr. Burke, which, how ever, he afterwards abridged and altered, while the speech and the notes upon it remained as they were. The text and the documents that support it have throughout been accommodated to each other.
The orthography has been in many cases altered, and an attempt made to reduce it to some certain standard. The rule laid down for the discharge of this task was, that,whenever Mr. Burke could be per ceived to have been uniform in his mode of spelling, that was considered as decisive ; but where he varied,
? ? ? ? ADVERTISEMENT. xix
(and as he was in the habit of writing by dictation, and leaving to others the superintcndence of the press, he was peculiarly liable to variations of this sort) the best received authorities were directed to be followed. The reader, it is trusted, will find this ob ject, too much disregarded in modern books, has here been kept in view throughout. The quotations which are interspersed through the works of Mr Burke, and which were frequently made by him from memory, have been generally compared with the original au thors. Several mistakes in printing, of one word for
another, by which the sense was either perverted or obscured, are now rectified. Two or three small in sertions have also been made from a quarto copy cor rected by Mr. Burke himself. From the same source something more has been drawn in the shape of notes, to which are subscribed his initials. Of this number is the explanation of that celebrated phrase, " the swinish multitude " : an explanation which was uni formly given by him to his friends, in conversation on the subject. But another note will probably inter est the reader still more, as being strongly expressive of that parental affection which formed so amiable a feature in the character of Mr. Burke. It is in page 208 of Vol. V. , where he points out a considerable passage as having been supplied by his "lost son. " "' Several other parts, possibly amounting altogether to
* In "Reflections on the Revolution in France,"---indicated by foot-now in loco.
? ? ? ? XX ADVERTISEMENT.
a page or thereabout, were indicated in the same manner; but, as they in general consist of single sen tences, and as the meaning of the mark by which they were distinguished was not actually expressed, it has not been thought necessary to notice them particu larly.
? ? ? ? A
VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY!
OB.
A VIEW OF THE MISERIES AND EVILS ARISING TO MANKIND FROM EVERY SPECIES OF ARTIFICIAL SOCIETY.
IN A LETTER TO LORD *"*""', BY A LATE NOBLE WRITER.
x756.
? ? ? ? ? ? ? _
? PREFACE.
the philosophical works of Lord Boling BEFbOroRkeEhad appeared, great things were expected from the leisure of a man, who, from the splendid scene of action in which his talents had enabled him
to make so conspicuous a figure, had retired to em ploy those talents in the investigation of truth. Phi losophy began to congratulate herself upon such a proselyte from the world of business, and hoped to have extended her power under the auspices of such a leader. In the midst of these pleasing ex pectations, the works themselves at last appeared in
? full body, and with great pomp. Those who searched in them for new discoveries in the mysteries of na ture; those who expected something which might explain or direct the operations of the mind; those who hoped to see morality illustrated and enforced; those who looked for new helps to society and gov . =rnment; those who desired to see the characters and fassions of mankind delineated; in short, all who consider such things as philosophy, and re quire some of them at least in every philosophical work, all these were certainly disappointed;
they found the landmarks of science precisely in their former places: and they thought they received but a poor recompense for this disappointment, in seeing every mode of religion attacked in a lively manner,
? ? ? 4 PREFACE.
and the foundation of every virtue, and of all gov ernment, sapped with great art and much ingenuity. What advantage do we derive from such writings? What delight can a man find in employing a ca pacity which might be usefully exerted for the no blest purposes, in a sort of sullen labor, in which, if the author could succeed, he is obliged to own, that nothing could be more fatal to mankind than his success ?
I cannot conceive how this sort of writers propose to compass the designs they pretend to have in view, by the instruments which they employ. Do they pretend to exalt the mind of man, by proving him no better than a beast? Do they think to enforce the practice of virtue, by denying that vice and vir tue are distinguished by good or ill fortune here, or by happiness or misery hereafter? Do they imag ine they shall increase our piety, and our reliance on God, by exploding his providence, and insisting that he is neither just nor good? Such are the doc trines which, sometimes concealed, sometimes openly and fully avowed, are found to prevail throughout the writings of Lord Bolingbroke ; and such are the rea sonings which this noble writer and several others have been pleased to dignity with the name of philos ophy. If these are delivered in a specious manner,
and in a style above the common, they cannot want a number of admirers of as much docility as can be wished for in disciples. To these the editor of the following little piece has addressed it: there is no reason to conceal the design of it any longer.
The design was to show that, without the exertion of any considerable forces, the same engines which were employed for the destruction of religion, might
? ? ? ? PREFACE.
5
be employed with equal success for the subversion of government ; and that specious arguments might be used against those things which they, who doubt of everything else, will never permit to be questioned. It is an observation which I think Isocrates makes in one of his orations against the sophists, that it is far more easy to maintain a wrong cause, and to support
paradoxical opinions to the satisfaction of a common auditory, than to establish a doubtful truth by solid and conclusive arguments. When men find that something can be said in favor of what, on the very proposal, they have thought utterly indefensible, they grow doubtful of their own reason; they are thrown into a sort of pleasing surprise; they run along with the speaker, charmed and captivated to find such a plentiful harvest of reasoning, where all seemed barren and unpromising. This is the fairy land of philosophy. And it very frequently hap pens, that those pleasing impressions on the imagi nation subsist and produce their effect, even after the understanding has been satisfied of their unsubstan tial nature. There is a sort of gloss upon ingenious falsehoods that dazzles the imagination, but which neither belongs to, nor becomes the sober aspect of truth. I have met with a quotation in Lord Coke's
that pleased me very much, though I do not know from whence he has taken it: "Interdumfucata falsitas (says he), in multis est probabilior, et soepe ra tionibus vincit nuclam veritatem. " In such eases the writer has a certain fire and alacrity inspired into him by a consciousness, that, let it fare how it will with the subject, his ingenuity will be sure of ap
plause; and this alacrity becomes much greater if he acts upon the offensive, by the impetuosity that
? Reports
? ? ? 6 . PREFACE.
an attack, and the unfortunate propensity which mankind have to the finding and exaggerating faults. The editor is satisfied that a mind which has no restraint from a sense of its own
weakness, of its subordinate rank in the creation, and of the extreme danger of letting the imagination loose upon some subjects, may very plausibly attack everything the most excellent and venerable; that it would not be difiicult to criticise the creation it self; and that if we were to examine the divine fab rics by our ideas of reason and fitness, and to use the same method of attack by which some men have assaulted revealed religion, we might with as good color, and with the same success, make the wisdom and power of God in his creation appear to many no
better than foolishness. There is an air of plausi
bility which accompanies vulgar reasonings and notions, taken from the beaten circle of ordinary
always accompanies
? that is admirably suited to the narrow capacities of some, and to the laziness of others. But this advantage is in a great measure lost, when a painful, comprehensive survey of a very complicated matter, and which requires a great variety of consid erations, is to be made ; when we must seek in a pro
found subject, not only for arguments, but for new materials of argument, their measures and their method of arrangement; when we must go out of the sphere of our ordinary ideas, and when we can never walk surely, but by being sensible of our blind
And this we must do, or we do nothing, when ever we examine the result of a reason which is not our own. Even in matters which are, as it were, just within our reach, what would become of the world, if the practice of all moral duties, and the
experience,
ness. _
? ? ? PREFACE. 7
foundations of society, rested upon having their rea sons made clear and demonstrative to every indi vidual?
The editor knows that the subject of this letter is not so fully handled as obviously it might; it was not his design to say all that could possibly be said. It had been inexcusable to fill a large vol ume with the abuse of reason; nor would such an abuse have been tolerable, even for a few pages, if some under-plot, of more consequence than the ap parent design, had not been carried on.
Some persons have thought that the advantages of the state of nature ought to have been more fully displayed. This had undoubtedly been a very ample subject for declamation ; but they do not consider the character of the piece. The writers against religion, whilst they oppose every system, are wisely careful never to set up any of their own. If some inaccu racies in calculation, in reasoning, or in method, be found, perhaps these will not be looked upon as faults by the admirers of Lord Bolingbroke; who will, the editor is afraid, observe much more of his lordship's character in such particulars of the follow
ing letter, than they are likely to find of that rapid torrent of an impetuous and overbearing eloquence, and the variety of rich imagery for which that writer is justly admired.
? ? ? ? U
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? ? ? ? A LETTER TO LORD "'".
I venture to say, my lord, that in our SHAlatLeL conversation, you were inclined to the party which you adopted rather by the feelings of your good nature, than by the conviction of your
judgment? We laid open the foundations of soci ety ; and you feared that the curiosity of this search might endanger the ruin of the whole fabric. You would readily have allowed my principle, but you dreaded the consequences ; you thought, that having once entered upon these reasonings, we might be car ried insensibly and irresistibly farther than at first we could either have imagined or wished. But for my part, my lord, I then thought, and am still of the same opinion, that error, and not truth of any kind, is dangerous ; that ill conclusions can only flow from false propositions; and that, to know whether any proposition be true or false, it is a preposterous method to examine it by its apparent consequences.
These were the reasons which induced me to go so far into that inquiry; and they are the reasons which direct me in all my inquiries. I had indeed often reflected on that subject before I could prevail on myself to communicate my reflections to anybody. They were generally melancholy enough; as those usually are which carry us beyond the mere surface of things; and which would undoubtedly make the
? ? ? ? 10 A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
lives of all thinking men extremely miserable, if the same philosophy which caused the grief, did not at the same time administer the comfort.
On considering political societies, their origin, their constitution, and their effects, I have sometimes been in a good deal more than doubt, whether the Creator did ever really intend man for a state of happiness. He has mixed in his cup a number of natural evils, (in spite of the boasts of stoicism they are evils,) and every endeavor which the art and policy of mankind
has used from the beginning of the world to this day, in order to alleviate or cure them, has only served to introduce new mischiefs, or to aggravate and inflame the old. Besides this, the mind of man itself is too active and restless a principle ever to settle on the true point of quiet. It discovers every day some craving want in a body, which really wants but lit tle. It every day invents some new artificial rule to guide that nature which, if left to itself, were the best and surest guide. It finds out imaginary beings pre scribing imaginary laws; and then, it raises imagi nary terrors to support a belief in the beings, and an obedience to the laws. -- Many things have been said, and very well undoubtedly, on the subjection in which we should preserve our bodies to the gov ernment of our understanding; but enough has not been said upon the restraint which our bodily neces sities ought to lay on the extravagant sublimities and eccentric rovings of our minds. The body, or as some love to call our inferior nature, wiser in its own plain way, and attends its own business more directly than the mind with all its boasted sub tlety.
In the state of nature, without question, mankind
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was subjected to many and great inconveniences. Want of union, want of mutual assistance, want of a common arbitrator to resort to in their differences. These were evils which they could not but have felt pretty severely on many occasions. The original children of the earth lived with their brethren of the
other kinds in much equality. Their diet must have been confined almost wholly to the vegetable kind; and the same tree, which in its flourishing state pro duced them berries, in its decay gave them an hab itation. The mutual desires of the sexes
uniting their bodies and affections, and the children which are the results of these intercourses, introduced first the notion of society, and taught its conveniences.
? This society, founded in natural
appetites and in stincts, and not in any positive institution, I shall
call natural society. Thus far nature went and suc ceeded: but man would go farther. The great error of our nature not to know where to stop, not to be satisfied with any reasonable acquirement; compound with our condition; but to lose all we have gained by an insatiable pursuit after more. Man found considerable advantage by this union of many persons to form one family; he therefore
judged that he would find his account proportion ably in an union of many families into one body poli tic. And as nature has formed no bond of union hold them together, he supplied this defect by laws.
This political society. And hence the sources of what are usually called states, civil societies, or gov ernments; into some form of which, more extended or restrained, all mankind have gradually fallen. And since has so happened, and that we owe an implicit reverence to all the institutions of our ances
not to
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tors, we shall consider these institutions with all that modesty with which we ought to conduct ourselves in examining a received opinion; but with all that freedom and candor which we owe to truth wherever We find or however may contradict our own notions, or oppose our own interests. There
most absurd and audacious method of reasoning avowed by some bigots and enthusiasts, and through fear assented to by some wiser and better men
this they argue against fair discussion of popular prejudices, because, say they, though they would be found without any reasonable support, yet the dis covery might be productive of the most dangerous
? Absurd and blasphemous notion! as all happiness was not connected with the practice
of virtue, which necessarily depends upon the knowl edge of truth; that is, upon the knowledge of those unalterable relations which Providence has ordained that every thing should bear to every other. These relations, which are truth itself, the foundation of virtue, and consequently the only measures of happi ness, should be likewise the only measures by which we should direct our reasoning. To these we should conform in good earnest; and not think to force na ture, and the whole order of her system, by a compli ance with our pride and folly, to conform to our arti ficial regulations. It by conformity to this method we owe the discovery of the few truths we know, and the little liberty and rational happiness we enjoy. We have something fairer play than reasoner could have expected formerly; and we de rive advantages from which are very visible.
The fabric of superstition has in this our age and nation received much ruder shocks than had ever
consequences.
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felt before; and through the chinks and breaches of our prison, we see such glimmerings of light, and feel such refreshing airs of liberty, as daily raise our ardor for more. The miseries derived to mankind from superstition under the name of religion, and of ecclesiastical tyranny under the name of church gov ernment, have been clearly and usefully exposed. We begin to think and to act from reason and from nature alone. This is true of several, but by far the majority is still in the same old state of blindness and slavery; and much is it to be feared that we shall perpetually relapse, whilst the real productive cause of all this superstitious folly, enthusiastical nonsense, and holy tyranny, holds a reverend place in the estimation even of those who are otherwise enlightened.
Civil government borrows a strength from ecclesi astical; and artificial laws receive a sanction from artificial revelations. The ideas of religion and government are closely connected ; and whilst we re ceive government as a thing necessary, or even use ful to our well-being, we shall in spite of us draw in, as a necessary, though undesirable consequence, an artificial religion of some kind or other. To this the vulgar will always be voluntary slaves; and even those of a rank of understanding superior, will now and then involuntarily feel its influence. It is there fore of the deepest concernment to us to be set right in this point ; and to be well satisfied whether civil gov
ernment be such a protector from natural evils, and such a nurse and increaser of blessings, as those of warm imaginations promise. 1n such a discussion, far am I from proposing in the least to reflect on our most wise form of government; no more than
? ? ? ? 14: A VINDIOATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
I would, in the freer parts of my philosophical writ ings, mean to object to the piety, truth, and perfec tion of our most excellent Church. Both, I am sen sible, have their foundations on a rock. No discovery of truth can prejudice them. On the contrary, the more closely the origin of religionand government is examined, the more clearly their excellences must appear. They come purified from the fire. My busi ness is not with them. Having entered a protest against all objections from these qu_arters, I may the more freely inquire, from history and experience, how far policy has contributed in all times to allevi ate those evils which Providence, that perhaps has designed us for a state of imperfection, has imposed ; how far our physical skill has cured our constitu tional disorders ; and whether it may not have intro
duced new ones, curable perhaps by no skill.
In looking over any state to form a judgment on presents itself in two lights the external, and
the internal. The first, that relation which bears in point of friendship or enmity to other states. The second, that relation which its component parts, the governing and the governed, bear to each other. The first part of the external view of all states, their relation as friends, makes so trifling figure in history, that am very sorry to say, affords me but little matter on which to expatiate. The good offices done by one nation to its neighbor;* the support given in public distress; the relief afforded in gen
Had his lordship lived to our days, to have seen the noble relief given by this nation to the distressed Portuguese, he had perhaps owned this part of his argument a little weakened; but we do not think ourselves entitled to alter his lordship's words, but that we are bound to follow him exactly.
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? A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
eral calamity; the protection granted in emergent danger; the mutual return of kindness and civility, would aiford a very ample and very pleasing subject for history. But, alas! all the history of all times, concerning all nations, does not afford matter enough to fill ten pages, though it should be spun out by the wire-drawing amplification of a Guicciardini himself. The glaring side is that of enmity. War is the mat ter which fills all history, and consequently the only or almost the only view in which we can see the
external of political society is in a hostile shape; and the only actions to which we have always seen, and still see all of them intent, are such as tend to the destruction of one another. " War," says Machiavel, " ought to be the only study of a prince "; and by a prince, he means every sort of state, however con stituted. "He ought," says this great political doc tor, " to consider peace only as a breathing-time, which gives him leisure to contrive, and furnishes ability to execute military plans. " A meditation on the conduct of political societies made old Hobbes imagine, that war was the state of nature ; and truly, if a man judged of the individuals of our race by their conduct when united and packed'into nations and kingdoms, he might imagine that every sort of virtue was unnatural and foreign to the mind of Infin.
The first accounts we have of mankind are but so many accounts of their butcheries. All empires have been cemented in blood ; and, in those early periods, when the race of mankind began first to form them selves into parties and combinations, the first effect of the combination, and indeed the end for which it seems pin'posely formed, and best calculated, was
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A. VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
their mutual destruction. All ancient history is dark and uncertain. One thing, however, is clear, ---there were conquerors, and conquests in those days; and, consequently, all that devastation by which they are formed, and all that oppression by which they are maintained. We know little of Sesostris, but that he
men; that he overran the Mediterranean coast as far as
led out of Egypt an army of above 700,000
Colchis; that in some places he met but little resist ance, and of course shed not a great deal of blood; but that he found in others a people. who knew the value of their liberties, and sold them dear. Who ever considers the army this conqueror headed, the space he traversed, and the opposition he frequently met, with the natural accidents of sickness, and the dearth and badness of provision to which he must have been subject in the variety of climates and coun tries his march lay through, if he knows anything, he must know that even the conqueror's army must have suffered greatly; and that of this immense num ber but a very small part could have returned to en
joy the plunder accumulated by the loss of so many of their companions, and the devastation of so consid erable a part of the world. Considering, I say, the vast army headed by this conqueror, whose unwieldy weight was almost alone sufficient to wear down its strength, it will be far from excess to suppose that one half was lost in the expedition. If this was the state of the victorious, and from the circumstances it must have been this at the least; the vanquished must have had a much heavier loss, as the greatest slaughter is always in the flight, and great carnage did in those times and countries ever attend the first rage of conquest. It will, therefore, be very reason
? ? ? ? A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
able to allow on their account as much as, added to the losses of the conqueror, may amount to a million of deaths, and then we shall see this conqueror, the oldest we have on the records of history, (though, as we have observed before, the chronology of these re mote times is extremely uncertain), opening the scene by a destruction of at least one million of his species, unprovoked but by his ambition, without any motives but pride, cruelty, and madness, and without any benefit to himself (for Justin expressly tells us he did not maintain his conquests), but solely to make so many people, in so distant countries, feel experiment ally how severe a scourge Providence intends for the human race, when he gives one man the power over many, and arms his naturally impotent and feeble rage with the hands of millions, who know no com mon principle of action, but a blind obedience to the passions of their ruler.
The next personage who figures in the tragedies of this ancient theatre is Semiramis; for we have no particulars of Ninus, but that he made immense and rapid conquests, which doubtless were not compassed without the usual carnage. We see an army of about
three millions employed by this martial queen in a War against the Indians. We see the Indians arming a. yet greater; and we behold a war continued with much fury, and with various success. This ends in the retreat of the queen, with scarce a third of the troops employed in the expedition ; an expedition
which, at this rate, must have cost two millions of souls on her part ; and it is not unreasonable to judge that the country which was the seat of war must have been an equal sufferer. But I am content to detract
from this, and to suppose that the Indians lost only 7012. 1. 2
? ? ? ? 18
A VLNDIGATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
half so much, and then the account stands thus: in this war alone (for Semiramis had other wars) in this single reign, and in this one spot of the globe, did three millions of souls expire, with all the horrid and shocking circumstances which attend all wars, and in a quarrel, in which none of the sufferers could have
'
monarchies must have poured out seas of blood in their formation, and in their destruction. The armies and fleets of Xerxes, their numbers, the glorious stand made against them, and the unfortunate event of all his mighty preparations, are known to everybody. In this expedition, draining half Asia of its inhabi tants, he led an army of about two millions to be slaughtered, and wasted by a thousand fatal acci dents, in the same place where his predecessors had before by a similar madness consumcd the flower of so many kingdoms, and wasted the force of so exten sive an empire. It is a cheap calculation to say, that the Persian empire, in its wars against the Greeks and
Scythians, threw away at least four millions of its subjects; to say nothing of its other wars, and the losses sustained in them. These were their losses abroad; but the war was brought home to them, first by Agesilaus, and afterwards by Alexander. I have not, in this retreat, the books necessary to make very exact calculations; nor is it necessary to give more than hints to one of your lordship's erndition. You will recollect his uninterrupted series of success. You will run over his battles. You will call to mind
the carnage which was made. You will give a glance at the whole, and you will agree with me, that to form this hero no less than twelve hundred thousand
the least rational concern.
The Babylonian, Assyrian, Median, and Persian
? ? ? ? A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
lives must have been sacrificed; but no sooner had he fallen himself a sacrifice to his vices, than a thou sand breaches were made for ruin to enter, and give the last hand to this scene'of misery and destruction. His kingdom was rent and divided; which served to employ the more distinct parts to tear each other to
and bury the whole in blood and slaughter. The kings of Syria and of Egypt, the kings of Per
and Macedon, without intermission worried each other for above two hundred years ; until at last a strong power, arising in the west, rushed in upon them and silenced their tumults, by involving all the contending parties in the same destruction. It is little to say, that the contentions between the suc cessors of Alexander depopulated that part of the world of at least two millions.
The struggle between the Macedonians and Greeks, and, before that, the disputes of the Greek common wealths among themselves, for an unprofitable supe riority, form one of the bloodiest scenes in history. One is astonished how such a small spot could furnish men sufficient to sacrifice to the pitiful ambition of possessing five or six thousand more acres, or two or three more villages; yet to see the acrimony and bitterness with which this was disputed between the Athenians and Lacedemonians; what armies cut off; what fleets sunk and burnt; what a number of cities sacked, and their inhabitants slaughtered and cap tived; one would be induced to believe the decision of the fate of mankind, at least, depended upon it! But these disputes ended as all such ever have done, and ever will do; in a real weakness of all parties; a momentary shadow, and dream of power in some one; and the subjection of all to the yoke of a stran
pieces,
gamus
? ? ? ? 20 A VINDIGATION or NATURAL soonsrr.
gcr, who knows how to profit of their divisions. This, at least, was the case of the Greeks ; and surely, from the earliest accounts of them, to their absorption into the Roman empire, we cannot judge that their intes tine divisions, and their foreign wars, consumed less than three millions of their inhabitants.
What an Aceldama, what a field of blood Sicily has been in ancient times, whilst the mode of its government was controverted between the republican and tyrannical parties, and the possession struggled for by the natives, the Greeks, the Carthaginians, and
the Romans, your lordship will easily recollect. You will remember the total destruction of such bodies as an army of 300,000 men. You will find every page of its history dyed in blood, and blotted and con founded by tumults, rebellions, massacres, assassina tions, proscriptions, and a series of horror beyond the histories perhaps of any other nation in the world; though the histories of all nations are made up of similar matter. I once more excuse myself in point of exactness for want of books. But I shall estimate the slaughters in this island but at two millions; which your lordship will find much short of the reality.
Let us pass by the wars, and the consequences of them, which wasted GreciaMagna, before the Roman power prevailed in that part of Italy.
I
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nicated that paper to any one out of the very small
circle of those private friends from whom I con
cealed nothing.
"But I beg you and my friends to be cautious how
you let it be understood that I disclaim anything but the mere act and intention of publication. I do not retract any one of the sentiments contained in that memorial, which was and is my justification, ad dressed to the friends for whose use alone I intended it. Had I designed it for the public, I should have been more exact and full. It was written in a tone of indignation, in consequence of the resolutions of the Whig Club, which were directly pointed against myself and others, and occasioned our secession from that club ; which is the last act of my life that I shall under any circumstances repent. Many tempera ments and explanations there would have been, if I had ever had a notion that it should meet the public
eye. "
In the mean time a large impression, amounting, it is believed, to three thousand copies, had been dis persed over the country. To recall these was im
to have expected that any acknowledged production of Mr. Burke, full of matter likcly to interest the future historian, could remain forever in obscurity, would have been folly; and to have passed it over in silent neglect, on the one hand, or, on the other, to have then made any considerable
? possible;
? ? ? X ADVERTISEMENT.
changes in might have seemed an abandonment of the principles which contained. The author, there fore, discovering, that, with the exception of the in troductory letter, he had not in fact kept any clean copy, as he had supposed, corrected one of the pam phlets with his_ own hand. From this, which was found preserved with his other papers, his friends afterwards thought their duty to give an authen tic edition.
The "Thoughts and Details on Scarcity" were originally presented in the form of memorial to Mr. Pitt. The author proposed afterwards to recast the same matter in new shape. He even adver tised the intended work under the title of " Let ters on Rural Economics, addressed to Mr. Arthur Young"; but he seems to have finished only two or three detached fragments of the first letter. These being too imperfect to be printed alone, his friends inserted them in the memorial, where they seemed best to cohere. The memorial had been
fairly copied, but did not appear to have been exam ined or corrected, as some trifling errors of the tran scriber were perceptible in it. The manuscript of the fragments was rough draft from the author's own hand, much blotted and very confused.
The Third Letter on the Proposals for Peace was in its progress through the press when the author died. About one half of was actually revised in print by himself, though not in the exact order of the
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pages as they now stand. He enlarged his first draft, and separated one great member of his subject, for the purpose of introducing some other matter be tween. The different parcels of manuscript designed to intervene were discovered. One of them he seemed to have gone over himself, and to have improved and augmented. The other (fortunately the smaller) was much more imperfect, just as it was taken from his mouth by dictation. The former reaches from the
two hundred and forty-sixth to near the end of the two hundred and sixty-second page ; the latter nearly occupies the twelve pages which follow. * No impor tant change, none at all affecting the meaning of any passage, has been made in either, though in the more imperfect parcel some latitude of discretion in subor dinate points was necessarily used.
There is, however, a considerable member for the greater part of which Mr. Burke's reputation is not responsible: this is the inquiry into the condition of the higher classes, which commences in the two hun dred and ninety-fifth pagesf The summary of the whole topic, indeed, nearly as it stands in the three hundred and seventy-third and fourth pages,:|Z was
*9 The former comprising the matter included between the para graph commencing, "I hear it has been said," 8m. , and that ending with the words, " there were little or no materials"; and the latter extending through the paragraph concluding with the words, " dis graced and plagued mankind. "
T At the paragraph commencing with the words, " In turning our view from the lower to the higher classes," 8w.
1 In the first half of the paragraph commencing, " If, then, the real state of this nation," &c.
? 1
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found, together with a marginal reference to the Bankrupt List, in his own handwriting; and the actual conclusion of the Letter was dictated by him, but never received his subsequent correction. He had also preserved, as materials for this branch of his subject, some scattered hints, documents, and parts of a correspondence on the state of the country. lHe was, however, prevented from working on them
by the want of some authentic and official information,
for which he had been long anxiously waiting, in order to ascertain, to the satisfaction of the public, what, with his usual sagacity, he had fully antici pated from his own personal observation, to his own private conviction. At length the reports cf the dif ferent committees which had been appointed by the two Houses of Parliament amply furnished him with evidence for this purpose. Accordingly he read and considered them with attention: but for anything beyond this the season was now past. The Supreme Disposer of All, against whose inscrutable counsels it is vain as well asIimpious to murmur, did not permit him to enter on the execution of the task which he meditated. It was resolved, therefore, by one of his friends, after much hesitation, and under avery pain ful responsibility, to make such an attempt as he could at supplying the void; especially because the insuffi ciency of our resources for the continuance of the war was understood to have been the principal objection urged against the two former Letters on the Proposals
? ? ? ? ADVERTISEMENT. xiii
for Peace. In performing with reverential diflidence this duty of friendship, care has been taken not to attribute to Mr. Burke any sentiment which is not most explicitly known, from repeated conversations, and from much correspondence, to have been decid edly entertained by that illustrious man. One pas sage of nearly three pages, containing a censure of our defensive system, is borrowed from a private let ter, which he began to dictate with an intention of comprising in it the short result of his opinions, but which he afterwards abandoned, when, a little time before his death, his health appeared in some degree to amend, and he hoped that Providence might have spared him at least to complete the larger public let ter, which he then proposed to resume.
In the preface to the former edition of this Letter a fourth was mentioned as being in possession of Mr. Burke's friends. It was in fact announced by the author himself, in the conclusion of the second, which it was then designed tofollow. He intended, he said, to proceed next on the question of the facilities pos sessed by the French Republic, from the internal state of other nations, and particularly of this, for obtaining her ends,----and as his notions were controverted, to take notice of what, in that way, had been recom mended to him. The vehicle which he had chosen for this part of his plan was an answer to a pamphlet which was supposed to come from high authority, and was circulated by ministers with great industry, at the
? ? ? ? xiv anvnar1snnnnr.
time of its appearance, in October, 1795, immediately previous to that session of Parliament when his Ma jesty for the first time declared that the appearance of any disposition in the enemy to negotiate for gen eral peace should not fail to be met with an earnest
desire to give it the fullest and speediest effect. In truth, the answer, which is full of spirit and vivacity, was written the latter end of the same year, but was laid aside when the question assumed a more serious 'aspect, from the commencement of an actual negotiation, which gave rise to the series of printed letters. Afterwards, he began to rewrite with view of accommodating to his new purpose. The greater part, however, still remained in its original state and several heroes of the Revolution, who are there celebrated, having in the interval passed off the public stage, greater liberty of insertion and altera tion than his friends on consideration have thought allowable would be necessary to adapt to that place in the series for which was ultimately de signed by the author. This piece, therefore, ad dressed, as the title originally stood, to his noble
friend, Earl Fitzwilliam, will be given the first in the supplemental volumes which will be hereafter added to complete this edition of the author's works.
The tracts, most of them in manuscript, which have been already selected as fit for this purpose, will probably furnish four or five volumes more, to be printed uniformly with this edition. The principal
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piece is an Essay on the History of England, from the earliest period to the conclusion of the reign of King John. It is written with much depth of antiquarian research, directed by the mind of an intelligent states man. This alone, as far as can be conjectured, will form more than one volume. Another entire volume also, at least, will be filled with his letters to public men on public affairs, especially those of France. This supplement will be sent to the press without delay.
Mr. Burke's more familiar correspondence will be reserved as authorities to accompany a narrative of his life, which will conclude the whole. The period during which he flourished was one of the most mem orable of our annals. _ It comprehended the acquisi tion of one empire in the East, the loss of another in the West, and the total subversion of the ancient sys tem of Europe by the French Revolution, with all which events the history of his life is necessarily and intimately connected,--as indeed it also is, much more than is generally known, with the state of liter ature and the elegant arts. Such a subject of biog raphy cannot be dismissed with a slight and rapid touch; nor can it be treated in a manner worthy of
from the information, however authentic and ex tensive, which the industry of any one man may have accumulated. Many important communications have been received; but some materials, which relate to the pursuits of his early years, and which are known
? ? ? it,
? xvi ADVERTISEMENT.
to be in existence, have been hitherto kept back, not withstanding repeated inquiries and applications. It
therefore, once more earnestly requested, that all persons who call themselves the friends or admirers of the late Edmund Burke will have the goodness to transmit, without delay, any notices of that or of any other kind which may happen to be in their posses sion or within their reach, to Messrs. Rivingtons,--a respect and kindness to his memory which will be thankfully acknowledged by those friends to whom, in dying, he committed the sacred trust of his reputa tion.
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TO THE SECOND OCTAVO EDITION!
A NEW edition of the works of Mr. Burke having been called for by the public, the opportunity has been taken to make some slight changes, it is
hoped for the better.
A different distribution of the contents, while it has
made the volumes, with the exception of the first and sixth, more nearly equal in their respective bulk, has, at the same time, been fortunately found to produce a more methodical arrangement of the whole. The first and second volumes, as before, severally contain those literary and philosophical works by which Mr. Burke was known previous to the commencement of
his public life as a statesman, and the political pieces which were written by him between the time of his first becoming connected with the Marquis of Rock ingham and his being chosen member for Bristol. In the third are comprehended all his speeches and pamphlets from his first arrival at Bristol, as a can didate, in the year 1774, to his farewell address from the hustings of that city, in the year 1780.
* London, F. and C. Rivington, 1803. 8 vols. VOL. 1. 3
? ? ? ? xviii ADVERTISEMENT.
I What he himself published relative to the affairs of
India occupies the fourth volume. The remaining four comprise his works since the French Revolution, with the exception of the Letter to Lord Kenmare on the Penal Laws against Irish Catholics, which was probably inserted where it stands from its relation to the subject of the Letter addressed by him, at a later period, to Sir Hercules Langrishe. With the same exception, too, strict regard has been paid to chrono logical order, which, in the last edition, was in some instances broken, to insert pieces that were not dis covered till it was too late to introduce them in their proper places.
In the Appendix to the Speech on the Nabob of Arcot's Debts the references were found to be con fused, and, in many places, erroneous. This proba bly had arisen from the circumstance that a larger and differently constructed appendix seems to have been originally designed by Mr. Burke, which, how ever, he afterwards abridged and altered, while the speech and the notes upon it remained as they were. The text and the documents that support it have throughout been accommodated to each other.
The orthography has been in many cases altered, and an attempt made to reduce it to some certain standard. The rule laid down for the discharge of this task was, that,whenever Mr. Burke could be per ceived to have been uniform in his mode of spelling, that was considered as decisive ; but where he varied,
? ? ? ? ADVERTISEMENT. xix
(and as he was in the habit of writing by dictation, and leaving to others the superintcndence of the press, he was peculiarly liable to variations of this sort) the best received authorities were directed to be followed. The reader, it is trusted, will find this ob ject, too much disregarded in modern books, has here been kept in view throughout. The quotations which are interspersed through the works of Mr Burke, and which were frequently made by him from memory, have been generally compared with the original au thors. Several mistakes in printing, of one word for
another, by which the sense was either perverted or obscured, are now rectified. Two or three small in sertions have also been made from a quarto copy cor rected by Mr. Burke himself. From the same source something more has been drawn in the shape of notes, to which are subscribed his initials. Of this number is the explanation of that celebrated phrase, " the swinish multitude " : an explanation which was uni formly given by him to his friends, in conversation on the subject. But another note will probably inter est the reader still more, as being strongly expressive of that parental affection which formed so amiable a feature in the character of Mr. Burke. It is in page 208 of Vol. V. , where he points out a considerable passage as having been supplied by his "lost son. " "' Several other parts, possibly amounting altogether to
* In "Reflections on the Revolution in France,"---indicated by foot-now in loco.
? ? ? ? XX ADVERTISEMENT.
a page or thereabout, were indicated in the same manner; but, as they in general consist of single sen tences, and as the meaning of the mark by which they were distinguished was not actually expressed, it has not been thought necessary to notice them particu larly.
? ? ? ? A
VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY!
OB.
A VIEW OF THE MISERIES AND EVILS ARISING TO MANKIND FROM EVERY SPECIES OF ARTIFICIAL SOCIETY.
IN A LETTER TO LORD *"*""', BY A LATE NOBLE WRITER.
x756.
? ? ? ? ? ? ? _
? PREFACE.
the philosophical works of Lord Boling BEFbOroRkeEhad appeared, great things were expected from the leisure of a man, who, from the splendid scene of action in which his talents had enabled him
to make so conspicuous a figure, had retired to em ploy those talents in the investigation of truth. Phi losophy began to congratulate herself upon such a proselyte from the world of business, and hoped to have extended her power under the auspices of such a leader. In the midst of these pleasing ex pectations, the works themselves at last appeared in
? full body, and with great pomp. Those who searched in them for new discoveries in the mysteries of na ture; those who expected something which might explain or direct the operations of the mind; those who hoped to see morality illustrated and enforced; those who looked for new helps to society and gov . =rnment; those who desired to see the characters and fassions of mankind delineated; in short, all who consider such things as philosophy, and re quire some of them at least in every philosophical work, all these were certainly disappointed;
they found the landmarks of science precisely in their former places: and they thought they received but a poor recompense for this disappointment, in seeing every mode of religion attacked in a lively manner,
? ? ? 4 PREFACE.
and the foundation of every virtue, and of all gov ernment, sapped with great art and much ingenuity. What advantage do we derive from such writings? What delight can a man find in employing a ca pacity which might be usefully exerted for the no blest purposes, in a sort of sullen labor, in which, if the author could succeed, he is obliged to own, that nothing could be more fatal to mankind than his success ?
I cannot conceive how this sort of writers propose to compass the designs they pretend to have in view, by the instruments which they employ. Do they pretend to exalt the mind of man, by proving him no better than a beast? Do they think to enforce the practice of virtue, by denying that vice and vir tue are distinguished by good or ill fortune here, or by happiness or misery hereafter? Do they imag ine they shall increase our piety, and our reliance on God, by exploding his providence, and insisting that he is neither just nor good? Such are the doc trines which, sometimes concealed, sometimes openly and fully avowed, are found to prevail throughout the writings of Lord Bolingbroke ; and such are the rea sonings which this noble writer and several others have been pleased to dignity with the name of philos ophy. If these are delivered in a specious manner,
and in a style above the common, they cannot want a number of admirers of as much docility as can be wished for in disciples. To these the editor of the following little piece has addressed it: there is no reason to conceal the design of it any longer.
The design was to show that, without the exertion of any considerable forces, the same engines which were employed for the destruction of religion, might
? ? ? ? PREFACE.
5
be employed with equal success for the subversion of government ; and that specious arguments might be used against those things which they, who doubt of everything else, will never permit to be questioned. It is an observation which I think Isocrates makes in one of his orations against the sophists, that it is far more easy to maintain a wrong cause, and to support
paradoxical opinions to the satisfaction of a common auditory, than to establish a doubtful truth by solid and conclusive arguments. When men find that something can be said in favor of what, on the very proposal, they have thought utterly indefensible, they grow doubtful of their own reason; they are thrown into a sort of pleasing surprise; they run along with the speaker, charmed and captivated to find such a plentiful harvest of reasoning, where all seemed barren and unpromising. This is the fairy land of philosophy. And it very frequently hap pens, that those pleasing impressions on the imagi nation subsist and produce their effect, even after the understanding has been satisfied of their unsubstan tial nature. There is a sort of gloss upon ingenious falsehoods that dazzles the imagination, but which neither belongs to, nor becomes the sober aspect of truth. I have met with a quotation in Lord Coke's
that pleased me very much, though I do not know from whence he has taken it: "Interdumfucata falsitas (says he), in multis est probabilior, et soepe ra tionibus vincit nuclam veritatem. " In such eases the writer has a certain fire and alacrity inspired into him by a consciousness, that, let it fare how it will with the subject, his ingenuity will be sure of ap
plause; and this alacrity becomes much greater if he acts upon the offensive, by the impetuosity that
? Reports
? ? ? 6 . PREFACE.
an attack, and the unfortunate propensity which mankind have to the finding and exaggerating faults. The editor is satisfied that a mind which has no restraint from a sense of its own
weakness, of its subordinate rank in the creation, and of the extreme danger of letting the imagination loose upon some subjects, may very plausibly attack everything the most excellent and venerable; that it would not be difiicult to criticise the creation it self; and that if we were to examine the divine fab rics by our ideas of reason and fitness, and to use the same method of attack by which some men have assaulted revealed religion, we might with as good color, and with the same success, make the wisdom and power of God in his creation appear to many no
better than foolishness. There is an air of plausi
bility which accompanies vulgar reasonings and notions, taken from the beaten circle of ordinary
always accompanies
? that is admirably suited to the narrow capacities of some, and to the laziness of others. But this advantage is in a great measure lost, when a painful, comprehensive survey of a very complicated matter, and which requires a great variety of consid erations, is to be made ; when we must seek in a pro
found subject, not only for arguments, but for new materials of argument, their measures and their method of arrangement; when we must go out of the sphere of our ordinary ideas, and when we can never walk surely, but by being sensible of our blind
And this we must do, or we do nothing, when ever we examine the result of a reason which is not our own. Even in matters which are, as it were, just within our reach, what would become of the world, if the practice of all moral duties, and the
experience,
ness. _
? ? ? PREFACE. 7
foundations of society, rested upon having their rea sons made clear and demonstrative to every indi vidual?
The editor knows that the subject of this letter is not so fully handled as obviously it might; it was not his design to say all that could possibly be said. It had been inexcusable to fill a large vol ume with the abuse of reason; nor would such an abuse have been tolerable, even for a few pages, if some under-plot, of more consequence than the ap parent design, had not been carried on.
Some persons have thought that the advantages of the state of nature ought to have been more fully displayed. This had undoubtedly been a very ample subject for declamation ; but they do not consider the character of the piece. The writers against religion, whilst they oppose every system, are wisely careful never to set up any of their own. If some inaccu racies in calculation, in reasoning, or in method, be found, perhaps these will not be looked upon as faults by the admirers of Lord Bolingbroke; who will, the editor is afraid, observe much more of his lordship's character in such particulars of the follow
ing letter, than they are likely to find of that rapid torrent of an impetuous and overbearing eloquence, and the variety of rich imagery for which that writer is justly admired.
? ? ? ? U
_ '
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? ? ? ? A LETTER TO LORD "'".
I venture to say, my lord, that in our SHAlatLeL conversation, you were inclined to the party which you adopted rather by the feelings of your good nature, than by the conviction of your
judgment? We laid open the foundations of soci ety ; and you feared that the curiosity of this search might endanger the ruin of the whole fabric. You would readily have allowed my principle, but you dreaded the consequences ; you thought, that having once entered upon these reasonings, we might be car ried insensibly and irresistibly farther than at first we could either have imagined or wished. But for my part, my lord, I then thought, and am still of the same opinion, that error, and not truth of any kind, is dangerous ; that ill conclusions can only flow from false propositions; and that, to know whether any proposition be true or false, it is a preposterous method to examine it by its apparent consequences.
These were the reasons which induced me to go so far into that inquiry; and they are the reasons which direct me in all my inquiries. I had indeed often reflected on that subject before I could prevail on myself to communicate my reflections to anybody. They were generally melancholy enough; as those usually are which carry us beyond the mere surface of things; and which would undoubtedly make the
? ? ? ? 10 A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
lives of all thinking men extremely miserable, if the same philosophy which caused the grief, did not at the same time administer the comfort.
On considering political societies, their origin, their constitution, and their effects, I have sometimes been in a good deal more than doubt, whether the Creator did ever really intend man for a state of happiness. He has mixed in his cup a number of natural evils, (in spite of the boasts of stoicism they are evils,) and every endeavor which the art and policy of mankind
has used from the beginning of the world to this day, in order to alleviate or cure them, has only served to introduce new mischiefs, or to aggravate and inflame the old. Besides this, the mind of man itself is too active and restless a principle ever to settle on the true point of quiet. It discovers every day some craving want in a body, which really wants but lit tle. It every day invents some new artificial rule to guide that nature which, if left to itself, were the best and surest guide. It finds out imaginary beings pre scribing imaginary laws; and then, it raises imagi nary terrors to support a belief in the beings, and an obedience to the laws. -- Many things have been said, and very well undoubtedly, on the subjection in which we should preserve our bodies to the gov ernment of our understanding; but enough has not been said upon the restraint which our bodily neces sities ought to lay on the extravagant sublimities and eccentric rovings of our minds. The body, or as some love to call our inferior nature, wiser in its own plain way, and attends its own business more directly than the mind with all its boasted sub tlety.
In the state of nature, without question, mankind
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was subjected to many and great inconveniences. Want of union, want of mutual assistance, want of a common arbitrator to resort to in their differences. These were evils which they could not but have felt pretty severely on many occasions. The original children of the earth lived with their brethren of the
other kinds in much equality. Their diet must have been confined almost wholly to the vegetable kind; and the same tree, which in its flourishing state pro duced them berries, in its decay gave them an hab itation. The mutual desires of the sexes
uniting their bodies and affections, and the children which are the results of these intercourses, introduced first the notion of society, and taught its conveniences.
? This society, founded in natural
appetites and in stincts, and not in any positive institution, I shall
call natural society. Thus far nature went and suc ceeded: but man would go farther. The great error of our nature not to know where to stop, not to be satisfied with any reasonable acquirement; compound with our condition; but to lose all we have gained by an insatiable pursuit after more. Man found considerable advantage by this union of many persons to form one family; he therefore
judged that he would find his account proportion ably in an union of many families into one body poli tic. And as nature has formed no bond of union hold them together, he supplied this defect by laws.
This political society. And hence the sources of what are usually called states, civil societies, or gov ernments; into some form of which, more extended or restrained, all mankind have gradually fallen. And since has so happened, and that we owe an implicit reverence to all the institutions of our ances
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tors, we shall consider these institutions with all that modesty with which we ought to conduct ourselves in examining a received opinion; but with all that freedom and candor which we owe to truth wherever We find or however may contradict our own notions, or oppose our own interests. There
most absurd and audacious method of reasoning avowed by some bigots and enthusiasts, and through fear assented to by some wiser and better men
this they argue against fair discussion of popular prejudices, because, say they, though they would be found without any reasonable support, yet the dis covery might be productive of the most dangerous
? Absurd and blasphemous notion! as all happiness was not connected with the practice
of virtue, which necessarily depends upon the knowl edge of truth; that is, upon the knowledge of those unalterable relations which Providence has ordained that every thing should bear to every other. These relations, which are truth itself, the foundation of virtue, and consequently the only measures of happi ness, should be likewise the only measures by which we should direct our reasoning. To these we should conform in good earnest; and not think to force na ture, and the whole order of her system, by a compli ance with our pride and folly, to conform to our arti ficial regulations. It by conformity to this method we owe the discovery of the few truths we know, and the little liberty and rational happiness we enjoy. We have something fairer play than reasoner could have expected formerly; and we de rive advantages from which are very visible.
The fabric of superstition has in this our age and nation received much ruder shocks than had ever
consequences.
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felt before; and through the chinks and breaches of our prison, we see such glimmerings of light, and feel such refreshing airs of liberty, as daily raise our ardor for more. The miseries derived to mankind from superstition under the name of religion, and of ecclesiastical tyranny under the name of church gov ernment, have been clearly and usefully exposed. We begin to think and to act from reason and from nature alone. This is true of several, but by far the majority is still in the same old state of blindness and slavery; and much is it to be feared that we shall perpetually relapse, whilst the real productive cause of all this superstitious folly, enthusiastical nonsense, and holy tyranny, holds a reverend place in the estimation even of those who are otherwise enlightened.
Civil government borrows a strength from ecclesi astical; and artificial laws receive a sanction from artificial revelations. The ideas of religion and government are closely connected ; and whilst we re ceive government as a thing necessary, or even use ful to our well-being, we shall in spite of us draw in, as a necessary, though undesirable consequence, an artificial religion of some kind or other. To this the vulgar will always be voluntary slaves; and even those of a rank of understanding superior, will now and then involuntarily feel its influence. It is there fore of the deepest concernment to us to be set right in this point ; and to be well satisfied whether civil gov
ernment be such a protector from natural evils, and such a nurse and increaser of blessings, as those of warm imaginations promise. 1n such a discussion, far am I from proposing in the least to reflect on our most wise form of government; no more than
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I would, in the freer parts of my philosophical writ ings, mean to object to the piety, truth, and perfec tion of our most excellent Church. Both, I am sen sible, have their foundations on a rock. No discovery of truth can prejudice them. On the contrary, the more closely the origin of religionand government is examined, the more clearly their excellences must appear. They come purified from the fire. My busi ness is not with them. Having entered a protest against all objections from these qu_arters, I may the more freely inquire, from history and experience, how far policy has contributed in all times to allevi ate those evils which Providence, that perhaps has designed us for a state of imperfection, has imposed ; how far our physical skill has cured our constitu tional disorders ; and whether it may not have intro
duced new ones, curable perhaps by no skill.
In looking over any state to form a judgment on presents itself in two lights the external, and
the internal. The first, that relation which bears in point of friendship or enmity to other states. The second, that relation which its component parts, the governing and the governed, bear to each other. The first part of the external view of all states, their relation as friends, makes so trifling figure in history, that am very sorry to say, affords me but little matter on which to expatiate. The good offices done by one nation to its neighbor;* the support given in public distress; the relief afforded in gen
Had his lordship lived to our days, to have seen the noble relief given by this nation to the distressed Portuguese, he had perhaps owned this part of his argument a little weakened; but we do not think ourselves entitled to alter his lordship's words, but that we are bound to follow him exactly.
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eral calamity; the protection granted in emergent danger; the mutual return of kindness and civility, would aiford a very ample and very pleasing subject for history. But, alas! all the history of all times, concerning all nations, does not afford matter enough to fill ten pages, though it should be spun out by the wire-drawing amplification of a Guicciardini himself. The glaring side is that of enmity. War is the mat ter which fills all history, and consequently the only or almost the only view in which we can see the
external of political society is in a hostile shape; and the only actions to which we have always seen, and still see all of them intent, are such as tend to the destruction of one another. " War," says Machiavel, " ought to be the only study of a prince "; and by a prince, he means every sort of state, however con stituted. "He ought," says this great political doc tor, " to consider peace only as a breathing-time, which gives him leisure to contrive, and furnishes ability to execute military plans. " A meditation on the conduct of political societies made old Hobbes imagine, that war was the state of nature ; and truly, if a man judged of the individuals of our race by their conduct when united and packed'into nations and kingdoms, he might imagine that every sort of virtue was unnatural and foreign to the mind of Infin.
The first accounts we have of mankind are but so many accounts of their butcheries. All empires have been cemented in blood ; and, in those early periods, when the race of mankind began first to form them selves into parties and combinations, the first effect of the combination, and indeed the end for which it seems pin'posely formed, and best calculated, was
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A. VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
their mutual destruction. All ancient history is dark and uncertain. One thing, however, is clear, ---there were conquerors, and conquests in those days; and, consequently, all that devastation by which they are formed, and all that oppression by which they are maintained. We know little of Sesostris, but that he
men; that he overran the Mediterranean coast as far as
led out of Egypt an army of above 700,000
Colchis; that in some places he met but little resist ance, and of course shed not a great deal of blood; but that he found in others a people. who knew the value of their liberties, and sold them dear. Who ever considers the army this conqueror headed, the space he traversed, and the opposition he frequently met, with the natural accidents of sickness, and the dearth and badness of provision to which he must have been subject in the variety of climates and coun tries his march lay through, if he knows anything, he must know that even the conqueror's army must have suffered greatly; and that of this immense num ber but a very small part could have returned to en
joy the plunder accumulated by the loss of so many of their companions, and the devastation of so consid erable a part of the world. Considering, I say, the vast army headed by this conqueror, whose unwieldy weight was almost alone sufficient to wear down its strength, it will be far from excess to suppose that one half was lost in the expedition. If this was the state of the victorious, and from the circumstances it must have been this at the least; the vanquished must have had a much heavier loss, as the greatest slaughter is always in the flight, and great carnage did in those times and countries ever attend the first rage of conquest. It will, therefore, be very reason
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able to allow on their account as much as, added to the losses of the conqueror, may amount to a million of deaths, and then we shall see this conqueror, the oldest we have on the records of history, (though, as we have observed before, the chronology of these re mote times is extremely uncertain), opening the scene by a destruction of at least one million of his species, unprovoked but by his ambition, without any motives but pride, cruelty, and madness, and without any benefit to himself (for Justin expressly tells us he did not maintain his conquests), but solely to make so many people, in so distant countries, feel experiment ally how severe a scourge Providence intends for the human race, when he gives one man the power over many, and arms his naturally impotent and feeble rage with the hands of millions, who know no com mon principle of action, but a blind obedience to the passions of their ruler.
The next personage who figures in the tragedies of this ancient theatre is Semiramis; for we have no particulars of Ninus, but that he made immense and rapid conquests, which doubtless were not compassed without the usual carnage. We see an army of about
three millions employed by this martial queen in a War against the Indians. We see the Indians arming a. yet greater; and we behold a war continued with much fury, and with various success. This ends in the retreat of the queen, with scarce a third of the troops employed in the expedition ; an expedition
which, at this rate, must have cost two millions of souls on her part ; and it is not unreasonable to judge that the country which was the seat of war must have been an equal sufferer. But I am content to detract
from this, and to suppose that the Indians lost only 7012. 1. 2
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A VLNDIGATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
half so much, and then the account stands thus: in this war alone (for Semiramis had other wars) in this single reign, and in this one spot of the globe, did three millions of souls expire, with all the horrid and shocking circumstances which attend all wars, and in a quarrel, in which none of the sufferers could have
'
monarchies must have poured out seas of blood in their formation, and in their destruction. The armies and fleets of Xerxes, their numbers, the glorious stand made against them, and the unfortunate event of all his mighty preparations, are known to everybody. In this expedition, draining half Asia of its inhabi tants, he led an army of about two millions to be slaughtered, and wasted by a thousand fatal acci dents, in the same place where his predecessors had before by a similar madness consumcd the flower of so many kingdoms, and wasted the force of so exten sive an empire. It is a cheap calculation to say, that the Persian empire, in its wars against the Greeks and
Scythians, threw away at least four millions of its subjects; to say nothing of its other wars, and the losses sustained in them. These were their losses abroad; but the war was brought home to them, first by Agesilaus, and afterwards by Alexander. I have not, in this retreat, the books necessary to make very exact calculations; nor is it necessary to give more than hints to one of your lordship's erndition. You will recollect his uninterrupted series of success. You will run over his battles. You will call to mind
the carnage which was made. You will give a glance at the whole, and you will agree with me, that to form this hero no less than twelve hundred thousand
the least rational concern.
The Babylonian, Assyrian, Median, and Persian
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lives must have been sacrificed; but no sooner had he fallen himself a sacrifice to his vices, than a thou sand breaches were made for ruin to enter, and give the last hand to this scene'of misery and destruction. His kingdom was rent and divided; which served to employ the more distinct parts to tear each other to
and bury the whole in blood and slaughter. The kings of Syria and of Egypt, the kings of Per
and Macedon, without intermission worried each other for above two hundred years ; until at last a strong power, arising in the west, rushed in upon them and silenced their tumults, by involving all the contending parties in the same destruction. It is little to say, that the contentions between the suc cessors of Alexander depopulated that part of the world of at least two millions.
The struggle between the Macedonians and Greeks, and, before that, the disputes of the Greek common wealths among themselves, for an unprofitable supe riority, form one of the bloodiest scenes in history. One is astonished how such a small spot could furnish men sufficient to sacrifice to the pitiful ambition of possessing five or six thousand more acres, or two or three more villages; yet to see the acrimony and bitterness with which this was disputed between the Athenians and Lacedemonians; what armies cut off; what fleets sunk and burnt; what a number of cities sacked, and their inhabitants slaughtered and cap tived; one would be induced to believe the decision of the fate of mankind, at least, depended upon it! But these disputes ended as all such ever have done, and ever will do; in a real weakness of all parties; a momentary shadow, and dream of power in some one; and the subjection of all to the yoke of a stran
pieces,
gamus
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gcr, who knows how to profit of their divisions. This, at least, was the case of the Greeks ; and surely, from the earliest accounts of them, to their absorption into the Roman empire, we cannot judge that their intes tine divisions, and their foreign wars, consumed less than three millions of their inhabitants.
What an Aceldama, what a field of blood Sicily has been in ancient times, whilst the mode of its government was controverted between the republican and tyrannical parties, and the possession struggled for by the natives, the Greeks, the Carthaginians, and
the Romans, your lordship will easily recollect. You will remember the total destruction of such bodies as an army of 300,000 men. You will find every page of its history dyed in blood, and blotted and con founded by tumults, rebellions, massacres, assassina tions, proscriptions, and a series of horror beyond the histories perhaps of any other nation in the world; though the histories of all nations are made up of similar matter. I once more excuse myself in point of exactness for want of books. But I shall estimate the slaughters in this island but at two millions; which your lordship will find much short of the reality.
Let us pass by the wars, and the consequences of them, which wasted GreciaMagna, before the Roman power prevailed in that part of Italy.
