We must not attempt to fly, when we can
scarcely
pretend to creep.
Edmund Burke
In a state of nature, it is true that a man of superior force may beat or rob me; but then it is true, that I am at full liberty to defend myself, or make reprisal by surprise or by cunning, or by any other way in which I may be superior to him.
But in political society, a rich man may rob me in an other way.
I cannot defend myself; for money is the only weapon with which we are allowed to fight.
And if I attempt to avenge myself the whole force of
gins, religion ends. Cannot I say, as truly at least, of human laws, that where mystery begins, justice ends? It is hard to say, whether the doctors of law or divinity have made the greater advances in the lucrative business of mystery. The lawyers, as well as the theologians, have erected another reason be sides natural reason; and the result has been, an other justice besides natural justice, They have so bewildered the world and themselves in unmeaning forms and ceremonies, and so perplexed the plainest matters with metaphysical jargon, that it carries the highest danger to a man out of that profession, to make the least step without their advice and as
? that society is ready to complete my ruin.
A good parson once said, that where mystery be
? ? ? A VINDICATION or NATURAL socmrr. 57
sistance. Thus, by confining to themselves the
of the foundation of all men's lives and properties, they have reduced all mankind into the most abject and servile dependence. We are ten ants at the will of these gentlemen for everything; and a metaphysical quibble is to decide whether the greatest villain breathing shall meet his deserts, or
with impunity, or whether the best man in the society shall not be reduced to the lowest and most despicable condition it affords. In a word, my lord, the injustice, delay, puerility, false refinement, and affected mystery of the law are such, that many who
live under it come to admire and envy the expedi tion, simplicity, and equality of arbitrary judgments. I need insist the less on this article to your lordship, as you have frequently lamented the miseries derived to us from artificial law, and your candor is the more to be admired and applauded in this, as your lord
knowledge
escape
? noble house has derived its wealth and its
ship's
honors from that profession.
Before we finish our examination of artificial soci ety, I shall lead your lordship into a closer consider ation of the relations which it gives birth to, and the benefits, if such they are, which result from these re lations. The most obvious division of society'is into rich and poor; and it is no less obvious, that the
of the former bear a great disproportion to those of the latter. The whole business of the poor is to administer to the idleness, folly, and luxury of the rich; and that of the rich, in return, is to find
the best methods of confirming the slavery and in creasing the burdens of the poor. In a state of na ture, it is an invariable law, that a man's acquisitions are in proportion to his labors. In a state of artificial
number
? ? ? 58 A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
society, it is a law as constant and as invariable, that those who labor most enjoy the fewest things; and that those who labor not at all have the greatest num ber of enjoyments. A constitution of things this, strange and ridiculous beyond expression ! We scarce believe a thing when we are told which we actu ally see before our eyes every day without being in the least surprised. "suppose that there are in Great Britain upwards of hundred thousand people employed in lead, tin, iron, copper, and coal mines; these unhappy wretches scarce ever see the light of the sun they are buried in the bowels of the earth there they work at severe and dismal task, without the least prospect of being delivered from it; they subsist upon the coarsest and worst sort of fare they have their health miserably impaired, and their lives out short, by being perpetually confined in the close vapor of these malignant minerals. A hundred thou sand more at least are tortured without remission by the suffocating smoke, intense fires, and constant drudgery necessary in refining and managing the products of those mines. If any man informed us that two hundred thousand innocent_ persons were condemned to so intolerable slavery, how should we pity the unhappy sufferers, and how great would be our just indignation against those who inflicted so cruel and ignominious punishment! This an in stance --I could not wish stronger-- of the num berless things which we pass by in their common dress, yet which shock us when they are nakedly rep resented. But this number, considerable as and the slavery, with all its baseness and horror, which we have at home, nothing to what the rest of the world affords of the same nature. Millions
? daily
? ? is
a
I
it is,
is
;
;
a a
a
;
it,
? A VINDICATION or NATURAL socmrr. 59
bathed in the poisonous damps and destructive efflu via of lead, silver, copper, and arsenic. To say noth ing of those other employments, those stations of wretchedness and contempt, in which civil society has placed the numerous enfans perdus of her army. VVould any rational man submit to one of the most tolerable of these drudgeries, for all the artificial en
joyments which policy has made to result from them? By no means. And yet need I suggest to yo1u' lord ship, that those who find the means, and those who arrive at the end, are not at all the same persons? On considering the strange and unaccountable fan cies and contrivances of artificial reason, I have some where called this earth the Bedlam of our system. Looking now upon the effects of some of those fan cies, may we not with equal reason call it likewise the Newgate and the Bridewell of the universe ? In deed the blindness of one part of mankind co-operat ing with the frenzy and villany of the other, has been the real builder of this respectable fabric of political society: and as the blindness of mankind has caused their slavery, in return their state of slavery is made a pretence for continuing them in a state of blind ness ; for the politician will tell you gravely, that their life of servitude disqualifies the greater part of the race of man for a search of truth, and supplies them with no other than mean and insufficient ideas. This is but too true; and this is one of the reasons for which I blame such institutions.
In a misery of this sort, admitting some few leni tives, and those too but a few, nine parts in ten of the whole race of mankind drudge through life. It may be urged perhaps, in palliation of this, that at least the rich few find a considerable and real benefit from
? ? ? ? 60
A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
the wretchedness of the many. But is this so in fact? Let us examine the point with a little more attention. For this purpose the rich in all societies may be thrown into two classes. The first is of those who are powerful as well as rich, and conduct the operations of the vast political machine. The other is of those who employ their riches wholly in the acquisition of
As to the first sort, their continual care and anxiety, their toilsome days, and sleepless nights, are next to proverbial. These circumstances are suf ficient almost to level their condition to that of the unhappy majority; but there are other circumstances which place them in a far lower condition. Not only their understandings labor continually, which is the severest labor, but their hearts are torn by the worst, most troublesome, and insatiable of all passions, by avarice, by ambition, by fear and jealousy. No part of the mind has rest. Power gradually extirpates from the mind every humane and gentle virtue. Pity, benevolence, friendship, are things almost unknown in high stations. Vera: amicitioe rarissime irweniuritu/r" in iis qai in hortoribus reque publica versarttur, says
Cicero. And indeed courts are the schools where cruelty, pride, dissimulation, and treachery are stud ied and taught in the most vicious perfection. This is a point so clear and acknowledged, that if it did not make a necessary part of my subject, I should pass it by entirely. And this has hindered me from drawing at full length, and in the most striking col ors, this shocking picture of the degeneracy and wretchedness of human nature, in that part which is vulgarly thought its happiest and most amiable state. You know from what originals I could copy such pictures. Happy are they who know enough of them
pleasure.
? ? ? ? A v1Nn1cATioN or NATURAL SOCIETY. 61
to know the little value of the possessors of such things, and of all that they possess ; and happy they
who have been snatched from that post of danger which they occupy, with the remains of their virtue ; loss of honors, wealth, titles, and even the loss of one's country, is nothing in balance with so great an advantage.
Let us now view the other species of the rich, those who devote their time and fortunes to idleness and pleasure. How much happier are they? The pleas ures which are agreeable to nature are within the reach of all, and therefore can form no distinction in favor of the rich. The pleasures which art forces up are seldom sincere, and never satisfying. What is worse, this constant application to pleasure takes away from the enjoyment, or rather turns it into the nature of a very burdensome and laborious business. It has consequences much more fatal. It produces a weak valetudinary state of body, attended by all those horrid disorders, and yet more horrid methods of cure, which are the result of luxury on the one hand, and the weak and ridiculous efforts of human art on the other. The pleasures of such men are scarcely felt as pleasures; at the same time that they bring on pains and diseases, which are felt but too
The mind has its share of the misfortune ; it grows lazy and enervate, unwilling and unable to search for truth, and utterly uncapable of knowing, much less of relishing, real happiness. The poor by their excessive labor, and the rich by their enormous luxury, are set upon a level, and rendered equally
ignorant of any knowledge which might conduce to their happiness. A dismal view of the interior of all civil society! The lower part broken and ground down
? severely.
? ? ? 62 A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
by the most cruel oppression ; and the rich by their artificial method of life bringing worse evils on them selves than their tyranny could possibly inflict on those below them. Very different is the prospect of the nat ural state. Here there are no wants which nature gives, and in this state men can be sensible of no other wants, which are not to be supplied by a very moderate degree of labor; therefore there is no sla very. Neither is there any luxury, because no sin gle man can supply the materials of it. Life is simple, and therefore it is happy.
I am conscious, my lord, that your politician will urge in his defence, that this unequal state is highly useful. . That without dooming some part of mankind to extraordinary toil, the arts which cultivate life could not be exercised. But I demand of this poli tician, how such arts came to be necessary ? He an swers, that civil society could not well exist without them. So that these arts are necessary to civil soci ety, and civil society necessary again to these arts. Thus are we running in a circle, without modesty, and without end, and making one error and extrava ganoe an excuse for the other. My sentiments about these arts and their cause, I have often discoursed with my friends at large. Pope has expressed them in good verse, where he talks with so much force of reason and elegance of language, in praise of the state of nature :
" Then was not pride, nor arts that pride to aid, Man walked with beast, joint tenant of the shade. "
On the whole, my lord, if political society, in what ever form, has still made the many the property of the few; if it has introduced labors unnecessary, vices and diseases unknown, and pleasures
? incompatible
? ? ? A VINDICATION or NATURAL socmrr.
63
w1th nature; if in all countries it abridges the lives of millions, and renders those of millions more utterly abject and miserable, shall we still worship so destruc tive an idol, and daily sacrifice to it our health, our liberty, and our peace? Or shall we pass by this mon strous heap of absurd notions, and abominable prac
tices, thinking we have sufficiently discharged our
duty in exposing the trifling cheats, and ridiculous juggles of a few mad, designing, or ambitious priests? Alas ! my lord, we labor under a mortal consumption, whilst we are so anxious about the cure of a sore fin ger. For has not this leviathan of civil power over flowed the earth with a deluge of blood, as if he were made to disport and play therein ? We have shown that political society, on a moderate calculation, has
been the means of murde1ing several times the num ber of inhabitants now upon the earth, during its short existence, not upwards of four thousand years in any accounts to be depended on. But we have said nothing of the other, and perhaps as bad, conse quence of these wars, which have spilled such seas of blood, and reduced so many millions to a merciless slavery. But these are only the ceremonies performed
in the porch of the political temple. Much more hor rid ones are seen as you enter it. The several species of government vie with each other in the absurdity of their constitutions, and the oppression which they make their subjects endure. Take them under what form you please, they are in effect but a despotism, and they fall, both in effect and appearance too, after
a very short period, into that cruel and detestable spe cies of tyranny: which I rather call because we have been educated under another form, than that this of worse consequences to mankind. For the free gov
? ? ? is
it,
? 64 A 'vINn1oAT1oN or NATURAL soomrr.
ernments, for the point of their space, and the mo ment of their duration, have felt more confusion, and committed more flagrant acts of tyranny, than the most perfect despotic governments which we have ever known. Turn your eye next to the labyrinth of the law, and the iniquity conceived in its intri cate recesses. Consider the ravages committed in the bowels of all commonwealths by ambition, by avarice, envy, fraud, open injustice, and pretended friendship; vices which could draw little support from a state of
nature, but which blossom and flourish in the rank ness of political society. Revolve our whole discourse; add to it all those reflections which your own good understanding shall suggest, and make a strenuous effort beyond the reach of vulgar philosophy, to con fess that the cause of artificial society is more de fenceless even than that of artificial religion; that it is as derogatory from the honor of the Creator, as sub versive of human reason, and productive of infinitely more mischief to the human race.
If pretended revelations have caused wars where they were opposed, and slavery where they were re ceived, the pretended wise inventions of politicians have done the same. But the slavery has been much heavier, the wars _far more bloody, and both more universal by many degrees. Show me any mischief produced by the madness or wickedness of theolo gians, and I will show you a hundred resulting from the ambition and villany of conquerors and statesmen. Show me an absurdity in religion, and I will undertake to show you a hundred for one in po litical laws and institutions. If you say that natural
religion is a sufficient guide without the foreign aid of revelation, on what principle should political laws
? ? ? ? A VINDICATION or NATURAL soo1ET'Y. 65
become necessary? Is not the same reason available in theology and in politics? If the laws of nature are the laws of God, is it consistent with the Divine wis dom to prescribe rules to us, and leave the enforce ment of them to the folly of human institutions ? Will you follow truth but to a certain point?
We are indebted for all our miseries to our distrust of that guide which Providence thought suflicient for our condition, our own natural reason, which reject ing both in human and divine things, we have given our necks to the yoke of political and theological sla
We have renounced the prerogative of man, and it is no wonder that we should be treated like beasts. But our misery is much greater than theirs, as the crime we commit in rejecting the lawful do minion of our reason is greater than any which they can commit. If, after all, you should confess all these things, yet plead the necessity of political institutions, weak and wicked as they are, I can argue with equal, perhaps superior, force, concerning the necessity of artificial religion ; and every step you advance in your argument, you add a strength to mine. So that
if we are resolved to submit our reason and our lib erty to civil usurpation, we have nothing to do but to conform as quietly as we can to the vulgar notions which are connected with this, and take up the the ology of the vulgar as well as their politics. But if we think this necessity rather imaginary than real,
we should renounce their dreams of society, together with their visions of religion, and vindicate ourselves into perfect liberty.
You are, my lord, but just entering into the world; I am going out of it. I have played long enough to be heartily tired of the drama. Whether I have acted
voL. 1. ' 5
very.
? ? ? ? 66 A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
my part in it well or ill, posterity will judge with more candor than I, or than the present age, with our present passions, can possibly pretend to. For my part, I quit it without a sigh, and submit to the sovereign order without murmuring. The nearer we approach to the goal of life, the better we begin to understand the true value of our existence, and the real weight of our opinions. We set out much in love with both; but we leave much behind us as we advance. We first throw away the tales along with the rattles of our nurses: those of the priest keep their hold a little longer ; those of our governors the longest of all. But the passions which prop these opinions are withdrawn one after another; and the cool light of reason, at the setting of our life, shows us what a false splendor played upon these objects during our more sanguine seasons. Happy, my lord, if instructed by my experience, and even by my errors, you come early to make such an estimate of things, as may give freedom and ease to your life. I am happy that such an estimate promises me comfort at my death.
? ? ? ? A PHILOSOPHICAL
INQUIRY INTO THE omem or onn IDEAS or
.
THE SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL
AN INTRODUCTORY DISCOURSE CONCERNING
T A s T E,
AND SEVERAL OTHER ADDITIONS.
",,,* The first edition of this work was published in 1756; the secoml with large additions, in the year I757.
? ? ? ? l
? ? ? J
? PREFACE.
I HAVE endeavored to make this edition some . thing more full and satisfactory than the first. I have sought with the utmost care, and read with equal attention, everything which has appeared in
? I have taken advantage of the candid liberty of my friends ; and if by these means I have been better enabled to discover the imperfections of the work, the indulgence it has
public against my opinions ;
received, imperfect as it was, furnished me with a new motive to spare no reasonable pains for its im provement. Though I have not found sufficient rea son, or what appeared to me sufficient, for making any material _change in my theory, I have found it necessary in many places to explain, illustrate, and enforce it. I have prefixed an introductory dis 00i1I'Se concerning Taste; it is a matter curious in itself; and it leads naturally enough to the princi pal inquiry. This, with the other explanations, has made the work considerably larger; and by increas ing its bulk has, I am afraid, added to its faults; so that notwithstanding all my attention, it may stand in need of a yet greater share of indulgence than it required at its first appearance.
They who are accustomed to studies of this nature will expect, and they will allow too for many faults. They know that many of the objects of our inquiry
? ? ? 70
PREFACE.
are in themselves obscure and intricate; and that many others have been rendered so by affected refine ments, or false learning; they know that there are many impediments in the subject, in the prejudices of others, and even in our own, that render it a mat ter of no small difficulty to show in a clear light the genuine face of nature. They know that whilst the mind is intent on the general scheme of things, some particular parts must be neglected; that we must often submit the style to the matter, and frequently give up the praise of elegance, satisfied with being clear.
The characters of nature are legible, it is true; but they are not plain enough to enable those who run, to read them. We must make use of a cau tious,I had almost said, a timorous method of pro ceeding.
We must not attempt to fly, when we can scarcely pretend to creep. In considering any com plex matter, we ought to examine every distinct ingredient in the composition, one by one; and re duce everything to the utmost simplicity; since the condition of our nature binds us to a strict law and very narrow limits. We ought afterwards to re-examine the principles by the effect of the com position, as well as the composition by that of the principles. We ought to compare our subject with things of a similar nature, and even with things of a contrary nature ; for discoveries may be, and often are made by the contrast, which would escape us on the single view. The greater number of the com parisons we make, the more general and the more certain our knowledge is likely to prove, as built upon a more extensive and perfect induction.
If an inquiry thus carefully conducted should fail
? ? ? ? PREFACE. T1
at last of discovering the truth, it may answer an end perhaps as useful, in discovering to us the weakness of our own understanding. If it does not make us know ing, it may make us modest. If it does not preserve us from error, it may at least from the spirit of error;
and may make us cautious of pronouncing with posi tiveness or with_haste, when so much labor may end in so much uncertainty.
I could wish that, in examining this theory, the same method were pursued which I endeavored to observe in forming The objections, in my opin ion, ought to be proposed, either to the several prin ciples as they are distinctly considered, or to the
? justness of the conclusion which drawn from them. But common to pass over both the premises and conclusion in silence, and to produce, as an objec tion, some poetical passage which does not seem easily accounted for upon the principles endeavor to establish. This manner of proceedingl should think very improper. The task would be infinite, we could establish no principle until we had pre viously unravelled the complex texture of every image or description to be found in poets and ora tors. And though we should never be able to rec oncile the effect of such images to our principles, this can never overturn the theory itself, whilst founded on certain and indisputable fa
theory lways nlity to against it. This inability may be owing to our ignorance of some
founded on experiment, and not ass good for so much as explains. push indefinitely no argument
necessary mediums to want of proper application to many other causes besides defect in the princi ples we employ. In reality, the subject requires
? ? ;
a it
a
a
is
it
it is
is
it.
it a; is
A
I if
? 72
PREFACE.
much closer attention than we dare claim from our manner of treating it.
If it should not appear on the face of the work, I must caution the reader against imagining that I in tended a full dissertation on the Sublime and Beau tiful. My inquiry went no farther than to the origin of these ideas. If the qualities which I have ranged under the head of the Sublime be all found consistent with each other, and all different from those which I place under the head of Beauty ; and if those which
the class of the Beautiful have the same consistency with themselves, and the same opposition to those which are classed under the denomination of Sublime, I am in little pain whether anybody chooses to follow the name I give them or not, provided he allows that what I dispose under different heads are in reality diiferent things in nature. The use I make of the words may be blamed, as too confined or too extended; my meaning cannot well be mis understood.
To conclude: whatever progress may be made towards the discovery of truth in this matter, I do not repent the pains I have taken in it. The use of such inquiries may be very considerable. Whatever turns the soul inward on itself, tends to concentre its forces, and to fit it for greater and stronger flights of
science
are ope
er we ta
certainly of s rvice Cicero, true as he was to the academic philosophy, and consequently led to reject the certainty of physical, as of every other kind of knowledge, yet freely confesses its great importance to the human understanding: "Est animorum inge
compose
? ookmg into physical causes our minds enlarged ; and in this pursuit, wheth
hether we lose our game, the chase is
? ? ? PREFACE. T3
niorumque nostrorum naturale quoddam quasi pabulum consideratio contemplatioque naturoe. " If we can di rect the lights we derive from such exalted specula tions upon the humbler field of the imagination, whilst we investigate the springs, and trace the courses of our passions, we may not only commu nicate to the taste a sort of philosophical solidity, but we may reflect back on the severer sciences some of the graces and elegances of taste, without which the greatest proficiency in those sciences will always have the appearance of something illiberal.
? ? ? ? ? Q
? ? ? CONTENTS.
Pm: Imnonucr1on: OnTaste . - . I . . 79
R.
Novelty . . . 101
? Pain and Pleasure .
The Difference between the Removal of Pain and Pos
itive Pleasure . . . .
Of Delight and Pleasure, as opposed to each other Joy and Grief .
Of the Passions which belong to Self-Preservation
VII. Of the Sublime . . . .
VIII. Of the Passions which belong to Society . .
IX. The Final Cause of the Difference between the Passions belonging to Self-Preservation, and those which re gard the Society of the Sexes
X. Of Beauty _ . . . XI. Society and Solitude .
XII. Sympathy, Imitation, and Ambition
XHI. Sympathy . . .
102
104 . 106 108 110 110
111
. 113 114 . 115 116 117 11s 120
122
123 . 125 12s
. XIV. The Effects of Sympathy in the Distresses of Others
XV. Of the Effects of Tragedy . XVI. Imitation . . .
XVII. Ambition . . . .
Of the Passion caused by the Sublime II. Terror .
.
. .
.
.
XVIII.
The R? ('flpitfllI\tl0Ti . XIX. The Conclusion . .
PART II.
.
. .
.
.
. .
_ 130 . . . 130
.
? ? .
1. is?
. EFl2-'5
. . . . . .
. . . . . . A
. .
TI
. . .
. . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . .
.
.
P
? 76 CONTENTS.
III. Obscurity . . . .
IV. Of the Difference between Clearness and Obscurity
182
with regard to the Passions . . The Same Subject continued .
.
[IV'1
v.
gins, religion ends. Cannot I say, as truly at least, of human laws, that where mystery begins, justice ends? It is hard to say, whether the doctors of law or divinity have made the greater advances in the lucrative business of mystery. The lawyers, as well as the theologians, have erected another reason be sides natural reason; and the result has been, an other justice besides natural justice, They have so bewildered the world and themselves in unmeaning forms and ceremonies, and so perplexed the plainest matters with metaphysical jargon, that it carries the highest danger to a man out of that profession, to make the least step without their advice and as
? that society is ready to complete my ruin.
A good parson once said, that where mystery be
? ? ? A VINDICATION or NATURAL socmrr. 57
sistance. Thus, by confining to themselves the
of the foundation of all men's lives and properties, they have reduced all mankind into the most abject and servile dependence. We are ten ants at the will of these gentlemen for everything; and a metaphysical quibble is to decide whether the greatest villain breathing shall meet his deserts, or
with impunity, or whether the best man in the society shall not be reduced to the lowest and most despicable condition it affords. In a word, my lord, the injustice, delay, puerility, false refinement, and affected mystery of the law are such, that many who
live under it come to admire and envy the expedi tion, simplicity, and equality of arbitrary judgments. I need insist the less on this article to your lordship, as you have frequently lamented the miseries derived to us from artificial law, and your candor is the more to be admired and applauded in this, as your lord
knowledge
escape
? noble house has derived its wealth and its
ship's
honors from that profession.
Before we finish our examination of artificial soci ety, I shall lead your lordship into a closer consider ation of the relations which it gives birth to, and the benefits, if such they are, which result from these re lations. The most obvious division of society'is into rich and poor; and it is no less obvious, that the
of the former bear a great disproportion to those of the latter. The whole business of the poor is to administer to the idleness, folly, and luxury of the rich; and that of the rich, in return, is to find
the best methods of confirming the slavery and in creasing the burdens of the poor. In a state of na ture, it is an invariable law, that a man's acquisitions are in proportion to his labors. In a state of artificial
number
? ? ? 58 A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
society, it is a law as constant and as invariable, that those who labor most enjoy the fewest things; and that those who labor not at all have the greatest num ber of enjoyments. A constitution of things this, strange and ridiculous beyond expression ! We scarce believe a thing when we are told which we actu ally see before our eyes every day without being in the least surprised. "suppose that there are in Great Britain upwards of hundred thousand people employed in lead, tin, iron, copper, and coal mines; these unhappy wretches scarce ever see the light of the sun they are buried in the bowels of the earth there they work at severe and dismal task, without the least prospect of being delivered from it; they subsist upon the coarsest and worst sort of fare they have their health miserably impaired, and their lives out short, by being perpetually confined in the close vapor of these malignant minerals. A hundred thou sand more at least are tortured without remission by the suffocating smoke, intense fires, and constant drudgery necessary in refining and managing the products of those mines. If any man informed us that two hundred thousand innocent_ persons were condemned to so intolerable slavery, how should we pity the unhappy sufferers, and how great would be our just indignation against those who inflicted so cruel and ignominious punishment! This an in stance --I could not wish stronger-- of the num berless things which we pass by in their common dress, yet which shock us when they are nakedly rep resented. But this number, considerable as and the slavery, with all its baseness and horror, which we have at home, nothing to what the rest of the world affords of the same nature. Millions
? daily
? ? is
a
I
it is,
is
;
;
a a
a
;
it,
? A VINDICATION or NATURAL socmrr. 59
bathed in the poisonous damps and destructive efflu via of lead, silver, copper, and arsenic. To say noth ing of those other employments, those stations of wretchedness and contempt, in which civil society has placed the numerous enfans perdus of her army. VVould any rational man submit to one of the most tolerable of these drudgeries, for all the artificial en
joyments which policy has made to result from them? By no means. And yet need I suggest to yo1u' lord ship, that those who find the means, and those who arrive at the end, are not at all the same persons? On considering the strange and unaccountable fan cies and contrivances of artificial reason, I have some where called this earth the Bedlam of our system. Looking now upon the effects of some of those fan cies, may we not with equal reason call it likewise the Newgate and the Bridewell of the universe ? In deed the blindness of one part of mankind co-operat ing with the frenzy and villany of the other, has been the real builder of this respectable fabric of political society: and as the blindness of mankind has caused their slavery, in return their state of slavery is made a pretence for continuing them in a state of blind ness ; for the politician will tell you gravely, that their life of servitude disqualifies the greater part of the race of man for a search of truth, and supplies them with no other than mean and insufficient ideas. This is but too true; and this is one of the reasons for which I blame such institutions.
In a misery of this sort, admitting some few leni tives, and those too but a few, nine parts in ten of the whole race of mankind drudge through life. It may be urged perhaps, in palliation of this, that at least the rich few find a considerable and real benefit from
? ? ? ? 60
A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
the wretchedness of the many. But is this so in fact? Let us examine the point with a little more attention. For this purpose the rich in all societies may be thrown into two classes. The first is of those who are powerful as well as rich, and conduct the operations of the vast political machine. The other is of those who employ their riches wholly in the acquisition of
As to the first sort, their continual care and anxiety, their toilsome days, and sleepless nights, are next to proverbial. These circumstances are suf ficient almost to level their condition to that of the unhappy majority; but there are other circumstances which place them in a far lower condition. Not only their understandings labor continually, which is the severest labor, but their hearts are torn by the worst, most troublesome, and insatiable of all passions, by avarice, by ambition, by fear and jealousy. No part of the mind has rest. Power gradually extirpates from the mind every humane and gentle virtue. Pity, benevolence, friendship, are things almost unknown in high stations. Vera: amicitioe rarissime irweniuritu/r" in iis qai in hortoribus reque publica versarttur, says
Cicero. And indeed courts are the schools where cruelty, pride, dissimulation, and treachery are stud ied and taught in the most vicious perfection. This is a point so clear and acknowledged, that if it did not make a necessary part of my subject, I should pass it by entirely. And this has hindered me from drawing at full length, and in the most striking col ors, this shocking picture of the degeneracy and wretchedness of human nature, in that part which is vulgarly thought its happiest and most amiable state. You know from what originals I could copy such pictures. Happy are they who know enough of them
pleasure.
? ? ? ? A v1Nn1cATioN or NATURAL SOCIETY. 61
to know the little value of the possessors of such things, and of all that they possess ; and happy they
who have been snatched from that post of danger which they occupy, with the remains of their virtue ; loss of honors, wealth, titles, and even the loss of one's country, is nothing in balance with so great an advantage.
Let us now view the other species of the rich, those who devote their time and fortunes to idleness and pleasure. How much happier are they? The pleas ures which are agreeable to nature are within the reach of all, and therefore can form no distinction in favor of the rich. The pleasures which art forces up are seldom sincere, and never satisfying. What is worse, this constant application to pleasure takes away from the enjoyment, or rather turns it into the nature of a very burdensome and laborious business. It has consequences much more fatal. It produces a weak valetudinary state of body, attended by all those horrid disorders, and yet more horrid methods of cure, which are the result of luxury on the one hand, and the weak and ridiculous efforts of human art on the other. The pleasures of such men are scarcely felt as pleasures; at the same time that they bring on pains and diseases, which are felt but too
The mind has its share of the misfortune ; it grows lazy and enervate, unwilling and unable to search for truth, and utterly uncapable of knowing, much less of relishing, real happiness. The poor by their excessive labor, and the rich by their enormous luxury, are set upon a level, and rendered equally
ignorant of any knowledge which might conduce to their happiness. A dismal view of the interior of all civil society! The lower part broken and ground down
? severely.
? ? ? 62 A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
by the most cruel oppression ; and the rich by their artificial method of life bringing worse evils on them selves than their tyranny could possibly inflict on those below them. Very different is the prospect of the nat ural state. Here there are no wants which nature gives, and in this state men can be sensible of no other wants, which are not to be supplied by a very moderate degree of labor; therefore there is no sla very. Neither is there any luxury, because no sin gle man can supply the materials of it. Life is simple, and therefore it is happy.
I am conscious, my lord, that your politician will urge in his defence, that this unequal state is highly useful. . That without dooming some part of mankind to extraordinary toil, the arts which cultivate life could not be exercised. But I demand of this poli tician, how such arts came to be necessary ? He an swers, that civil society could not well exist without them. So that these arts are necessary to civil soci ety, and civil society necessary again to these arts. Thus are we running in a circle, without modesty, and without end, and making one error and extrava ganoe an excuse for the other. My sentiments about these arts and their cause, I have often discoursed with my friends at large. Pope has expressed them in good verse, where he talks with so much force of reason and elegance of language, in praise of the state of nature :
" Then was not pride, nor arts that pride to aid, Man walked with beast, joint tenant of the shade. "
On the whole, my lord, if political society, in what ever form, has still made the many the property of the few; if it has introduced labors unnecessary, vices and diseases unknown, and pleasures
? incompatible
? ? ? A VINDICATION or NATURAL socmrr.
63
w1th nature; if in all countries it abridges the lives of millions, and renders those of millions more utterly abject and miserable, shall we still worship so destruc tive an idol, and daily sacrifice to it our health, our liberty, and our peace? Or shall we pass by this mon strous heap of absurd notions, and abominable prac
tices, thinking we have sufficiently discharged our
duty in exposing the trifling cheats, and ridiculous juggles of a few mad, designing, or ambitious priests? Alas ! my lord, we labor under a mortal consumption, whilst we are so anxious about the cure of a sore fin ger. For has not this leviathan of civil power over flowed the earth with a deluge of blood, as if he were made to disport and play therein ? We have shown that political society, on a moderate calculation, has
been the means of murde1ing several times the num ber of inhabitants now upon the earth, during its short existence, not upwards of four thousand years in any accounts to be depended on. But we have said nothing of the other, and perhaps as bad, conse quence of these wars, which have spilled such seas of blood, and reduced so many millions to a merciless slavery. But these are only the ceremonies performed
in the porch of the political temple. Much more hor rid ones are seen as you enter it. The several species of government vie with each other in the absurdity of their constitutions, and the oppression which they make their subjects endure. Take them under what form you please, they are in effect but a despotism, and they fall, both in effect and appearance too, after
a very short period, into that cruel and detestable spe cies of tyranny: which I rather call because we have been educated under another form, than that this of worse consequences to mankind. For the free gov
? ? ? is
it,
? 64 A 'vINn1oAT1oN or NATURAL soomrr.
ernments, for the point of their space, and the mo ment of their duration, have felt more confusion, and committed more flagrant acts of tyranny, than the most perfect despotic governments which we have ever known. Turn your eye next to the labyrinth of the law, and the iniquity conceived in its intri cate recesses. Consider the ravages committed in the bowels of all commonwealths by ambition, by avarice, envy, fraud, open injustice, and pretended friendship; vices which could draw little support from a state of
nature, but which blossom and flourish in the rank ness of political society. Revolve our whole discourse; add to it all those reflections which your own good understanding shall suggest, and make a strenuous effort beyond the reach of vulgar philosophy, to con fess that the cause of artificial society is more de fenceless even than that of artificial religion; that it is as derogatory from the honor of the Creator, as sub versive of human reason, and productive of infinitely more mischief to the human race.
If pretended revelations have caused wars where they were opposed, and slavery where they were re ceived, the pretended wise inventions of politicians have done the same. But the slavery has been much heavier, the wars _far more bloody, and both more universal by many degrees. Show me any mischief produced by the madness or wickedness of theolo gians, and I will show you a hundred resulting from the ambition and villany of conquerors and statesmen. Show me an absurdity in religion, and I will undertake to show you a hundred for one in po litical laws and institutions. If you say that natural
religion is a sufficient guide without the foreign aid of revelation, on what principle should political laws
? ? ? ? A VINDICATION or NATURAL soo1ET'Y. 65
become necessary? Is not the same reason available in theology and in politics? If the laws of nature are the laws of God, is it consistent with the Divine wis dom to prescribe rules to us, and leave the enforce ment of them to the folly of human institutions ? Will you follow truth but to a certain point?
We are indebted for all our miseries to our distrust of that guide which Providence thought suflicient for our condition, our own natural reason, which reject ing both in human and divine things, we have given our necks to the yoke of political and theological sla
We have renounced the prerogative of man, and it is no wonder that we should be treated like beasts. But our misery is much greater than theirs, as the crime we commit in rejecting the lawful do minion of our reason is greater than any which they can commit. If, after all, you should confess all these things, yet plead the necessity of political institutions, weak and wicked as they are, I can argue with equal, perhaps superior, force, concerning the necessity of artificial religion ; and every step you advance in your argument, you add a strength to mine. So that
if we are resolved to submit our reason and our lib erty to civil usurpation, we have nothing to do but to conform as quietly as we can to the vulgar notions which are connected with this, and take up the the ology of the vulgar as well as their politics. But if we think this necessity rather imaginary than real,
we should renounce their dreams of society, together with their visions of religion, and vindicate ourselves into perfect liberty.
You are, my lord, but just entering into the world; I am going out of it. I have played long enough to be heartily tired of the drama. Whether I have acted
voL. 1. ' 5
very.
? ? ? ? 66 A VINDICATION OF NATURAL SOCIETY.
my part in it well or ill, posterity will judge with more candor than I, or than the present age, with our present passions, can possibly pretend to. For my part, I quit it without a sigh, and submit to the sovereign order without murmuring. The nearer we approach to the goal of life, the better we begin to understand the true value of our existence, and the real weight of our opinions. We set out much in love with both; but we leave much behind us as we advance. We first throw away the tales along with the rattles of our nurses: those of the priest keep their hold a little longer ; those of our governors the longest of all. But the passions which prop these opinions are withdrawn one after another; and the cool light of reason, at the setting of our life, shows us what a false splendor played upon these objects during our more sanguine seasons. Happy, my lord, if instructed by my experience, and even by my errors, you come early to make such an estimate of things, as may give freedom and ease to your life. I am happy that such an estimate promises me comfort at my death.
? ? ? ? A PHILOSOPHICAL
INQUIRY INTO THE omem or onn IDEAS or
.
THE SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL
AN INTRODUCTORY DISCOURSE CONCERNING
T A s T E,
AND SEVERAL OTHER ADDITIONS.
",,,* The first edition of this work was published in 1756; the secoml with large additions, in the year I757.
? ? ? ? l
? ? ? J
? PREFACE.
I HAVE endeavored to make this edition some . thing more full and satisfactory than the first. I have sought with the utmost care, and read with equal attention, everything which has appeared in
? I have taken advantage of the candid liberty of my friends ; and if by these means I have been better enabled to discover the imperfections of the work, the indulgence it has
public against my opinions ;
received, imperfect as it was, furnished me with a new motive to spare no reasonable pains for its im provement. Though I have not found sufficient rea son, or what appeared to me sufficient, for making any material _change in my theory, I have found it necessary in many places to explain, illustrate, and enforce it. I have prefixed an introductory dis 00i1I'Se concerning Taste; it is a matter curious in itself; and it leads naturally enough to the princi pal inquiry. This, with the other explanations, has made the work considerably larger; and by increas ing its bulk has, I am afraid, added to its faults; so that notwithstanding all my attention, it may stand in need of a yet greater share of indulgence than it required at its first appearance.
They who are accustomed to studies of this nature will expect, and they will allow too for many faults. They know that many of the objects of our inquiry
? ? ? 70
PREFACE.
are in themselves obscure and intricate; and that many others have been rendered so by affected refine ments, or false learning; they know that there are many impediments in the subject, in the prejudices of others, and even in our own, that render it a mat ter of no small difficulty to show in a clear light the genuine face of nature. They know that whilst the mind is intent on the general scheme of things, some particular parts must be neglected; that we must often submit the style to the matter, and frequently give up the praise of elegance, satisfied with being clear.
The characters of nature are legible, it is true; but they are not plain enough to enable those who run, to read them. We must make use of a cau tious,I had almost said, a timorous method of pro ceeding.
We must not attempt to fly, when we can scarcely pretend to creep. In considering any com plex matter, we ought to examine every distinct ingredient in the composition, one by one; and re duce everything to the utmost simplicity; since the condition of our nature binds us to a strict law and very narrow limits. We ought afterwards to re-examine the principles by the effect of the com position, as well as the composition by that of the principles. We ought to compare our subject with things of a similar nature, and even with things of a contrary nature ; for discoveries may be, and often are made by the contrast, which would escape us on the single view. The greater number of the com parisons we make, the more general and the more certain our knowledge is likely to prove, as built upon a more extensive and perfect induction.
If an inquiry thus carefully conducted should fail
? ? ? ? PREFACE. T1
at last of discovering the truth, it may answer an end perhaps as useful, in discovering to us the weakness of our own understanding. If it does not make us know ing, it may make us modest. If it does not preserve us from error, it may at least from the spirit of error;
and may make us cautious of pronouncing with posi tiveness or with_haste, when so much labor may end in so much uncertainty.
I could wish that, in examining this theory, the same method were pursued which I endeavored to observe in forming The objections, in my opin ion, ought to be proposed, either to the several prin ciples as they are distinctly considered, or to the
? justness of the conclusion which drawn from them. But common to pass over both the premises and conclusion in silence, and to produce, as an objec tion, some poetical passage which does not seem easily accounted for upon the principles endeavor to establish. This manner of proceedingl should think very improper. The task would be infinite, we could establish no principle until we had pre viously unravelled the complex texture of every image or description to be found in poets and ora tors. And though we should never be able to rec oncile the effect of such images to our principles, this can never overturn the theory itself, whilst founded on certain and indisputable fa
theory lways nlity to against it. This inability may be owing to our ignorance of some
founded on experiment, and not ass good for so much as explains. push indefinitely no argument
necessary mediums to want of proper application to many other causes besides defect in the princi ples we employ. In reality, the subject requires
? ? ;
a it
a
a
is
it
it is
is
it.
it a; is
A
I if
? 72
PREFACE.
much closer attention than we dare claim from our manner of treating it.
If it should not appear on the face of the work, I must caution the reader against imagining that I in tended a full dissertation on the Sublime and Beau tiful. My inquiry went no farther than to the origin of these ideas. If the qualities which I have ranged under the head of the Sublime be all found consistent with each other, and all different from those which I place under the head of Beauty ; and if those which
the class of the Beautiful have the same consistency with themselves, and the same opposition to those which are classed under the denomination of Sublime, I am in little pain whether anybody chooses to follow the name I give them or not, provided he allows that what I dispose under different heads are in reality diiferent things in nature. The use I make of the words may be blamed, as too confined or too extended; my meaning cannot well be mis understood.
To conclude: whatever progress may be made towards the discovery of truth in this matter, I do not repent the pains I have taken in it. The use of such inquiries may be very considerable. Whatever turns the soul inward on itself, tends to concentre its forces, and to fit it for greater and stronger flights of
science
are ope
er we ta
certainly of s rvice Cicero, true as he was to the academic philosophy, and consequently led to reject the certainty of physical, as of every other kind of knowledge, yet freely confesses its great importance to the human understanding: "Est animorum inge
compose
? ookmg into physical causes our minds enlarged ; and in this pursuit, wheth
hether we lose our game, the chase is
? ? ? PREFACE. T3
niorumque nostrorum naturale quoddam quasi pabulum consideratio contemplatioque naturoe. " If we can di rect the lights we derive from such exalted specula tions upon the humbler field of the imagination, whilst we investigate the springs, and trace the courses of our passions, we may not only commu nicate to the taste a sort of philosophical solidity, but we may reflect back on the severer sciences some of the graces and elegances of taste, without which the greatest proficiency in those sciences will always have the appearance of something illiberal.
? ? ? ? ? Q
? ? ? CONTENTS.
Pm: Imnonucr1on: OnTaste . - . I . . 79
R.
Novelty . . . 101
? Pain and Pleasure .
The Difference between the Removal of Pain and Pos
itive Pleasure . . . .
Of Delight and Pleasure, as opposed to each other Joy and Grief .
Of the Passions which belong to Self-Preservation
VII. Of the Sublime . . . .
VIII. Of the Passions which belong to Society . .
IX. The Final Cause of the Difference between the Passions belonging to Self-Preservation, and those which re gard the Society of the Sexes
X. Of Beauty _ . . . XI. Society and Solitude .
XII. Sympathy, Imitation, and Ambition
XHI. Sympathy . . .
102
104 . 106 108 110 110
111
. 113 114 . 115 116 117 11s 120
122
123 . 125 12s
. XIV. The Effects of Sympathy in the Distresses of Others
XV. Of the Effects of Tragedy . XVI. Imitation . . .
XVII. Ambition . . . .
Of the Passion caused by the Sublime II. Terror .
.
. .
.
.
XVIII.
The R? ('flpitfllI\tl0Ti . XIX. The Conclusion . .
PART II.
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_ 130 . . . 130
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1. is?
. EFl2-'5
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TI
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P
? 76 CONTENTS.
III. Obscurity . . . .
IV. Of the Difference between Clearness and Obscurity
182
with regard to the Passions . . The Same Subject continued .
.
[IV'1
v.
