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TN the Treatifes here publijhed , there is the following Connexion. ‘The firjl treats of Art in its mojl comprehenfve Idea , when confidered as a Genus to many fahordinate Species . The fecond confiders three of thefe fubordinate Species, whofe Beauty and Elegance are well known to all The lafi treats of that Art , which refpeBs the ConduB of Human Life y and which jnay juftly be valued , as of all Arts the mojl important , if it can truly lead Its to the End propofed , '' v • . . / V » TREATISE THE FIRST A D1ALOGVE CONCERNING ART TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE THE EARL OF SHAFTESBVRY B •* . v - : •: t i : T ..... .. .. ■ : ■ CONCERNING ART A DIALOGVE TO THE RIGHT HONOVRABLE THE EARL OF SHAFTESBVRY My Lord, "^HE following is a Converfation in its kind fomewhat uncom¬ mon, and for this reafon I have remembered it more minutely than I could imagine. Should the fame Peculiarity prove a Reafon to amufe your Lordfhip, I fhall think myfelf well rewarded in the Labour of reciting. If not, you are candid enough to accept of the Intention, and to think there is fome Merit even in the Sincerity of my Endeavours. To make no longer Preface, the Fadt was as follows, B 2 A 4 Concerning A R T, A Friend from a difiant Country hav¬ ing by chance made me a Vifit, we were tempted by the Serenity of a chearful Morn¬ ing in the Spring, to walk from Salifoury to fee Lord Pembroke § at Wilton . The Beauties of Gardening, xMchitedure, Paint¬ ing, and Sculpture belonging to that Seat, were the Subject of great Entertainment to my Friend: Nor was I, for my own part, lefs delighted than he was, to find that our Walk had fo well anfwered his Expedi¬ tions. We had given a large Scope to oqr Curiofity, when we left the Seat, and lei- furely began our return towards home. And here, my Lord, in pafiing over a few pleafant Fields, commenced the Con- verfation which I am to tell you, and which fell at firfl:, as was natural, on the many curious Works, which had afforded us both fo elegant an Amufement. This led us in- fenfibly to difcourfing upon ART, for we both agreed, that whatever we had been admiring of Fair and Beautiful, could all be 2 referred A Dialogue. referred to no other Caufe. And here, I well remember, I called upon my Friend to give me his Opinion upon the meaning of the Word ART : A Word it was (I told him) in the Mouth of every one; but that neverthelefs, as to its precife and defi¬ nite Idea, this might frill be a Secret; that fo it was in fadt with a thoufand Words befide, all no lefs common, and equally fa¬ miliar, and yet all of them equally vagueand undetermined. To this he anfwered,That as to the precife and definite Idea of Art, it was a Queftion of fome Difficulty, and not fo foon to be refolved; that, however, he could not conceive a more likely Method of coming to know it, than by confidering thofe feveral Particulars, to each of which we gave the Name. It is hardly probable, faid he, that Mufic, Painting, Medicine, Poetry, Agriculture, and fo many more fhould be all called by one common Name, if there was not fomething in each , which was common to all. It ifiould feem fo, replied I» What then, faid he, fhall we pronounce this to be ? At this, I remember, I was B 3 under 6 Concerning ART, under fome fort of Hefitation. Have Cou¬ rage, cried my Friend, perhaps the Cafe is not fo defperate. Let me afk you—Is Me¬ dicine the Caufe of any thing? Yes fure- ly, faid I, of Health. And Agriculture, of what ? Of the plentiful Growth of Grain. And Poetry, of what ? Of Plays and Satires, and Odes, and the like. And is not the fame true, faid he, of Mufic, of Statuary, of Architecture, and, in iliort, of every Art whatever ? I confefs, faid I, it feems fo. Suppofe then, faid he, we fhould fay. It was common to every Art to be a Caufe —Should we err ? I replied, I thought not. Let this then, faidhe, be remembered, that all Art is Caufe , I promifed him it fhould. But how then, continued he, if all Art be Caufe , is it alfo true, that all Caufe is Art ? At this again I could not help helitating. You have heard, faid he, without doubt, of that Painter famed in Story, who being to paint the Foam of a Horfe, and not fucceeaing to his Mind, threw threw at the Pidlure in Refentment a Sponge bedaubed, with Colours, and pro¬ duced aFoam the moft natural imaginable. Now, what fay you to this Fadt ? Shall we pronounce Art to have been the Caufe ? By no means, faid I. What, faid he, if inftead of Chance, his Hand had been guided by mere Compuljion , himfelf diffent- ing and averfe to the Violence ? Even here, replied I, nothing could have been referred to his Art. But what, con¬ tinued he, if inftead of a cafual 'Throw , or involuntary Compuljion, he had willingly and defignedly directed his Pencil, and fo pro¬ duced that Foam, which Story fays he failed in ?—Would not Art here have been the Caufe ? I replied, in this cafe, I thought it would. It (hould feem then, faid he, that Art implies not only Caufe , but the additional Requifite of Intention, Reafon, Volition , and Confcioufnefs; fo that not every Caufe is Art , but only voluntary or intentional Caufe . So, laid I, it appears. B 4 And 8 Concerning A R And ffiall we then, added he, pronounce every intentional Caufe to be Art ? I fee no reafon, faid I, why not. Confider, faid he; Hunger this Morning prompted you to eat. You were then the Caufe , and that too the intentional Caufe , of con- fuming certain Food : And yet will you refer this Confumption to Art ? Did you chew by Art ? Did you fwallow by Art ? No certainly, faid I. So by opening your Eyes, faid he, you are the intentional Caufe of Seeing, and by ftretch- ing your Hand, the intentional Caufe of Feeling ; and yet will you affirm, that thefe things ■proceedfrom Art P I ffiould be wrong, faid I, if I did: For what Art can there be in doing , what every one is able to do by mere Will, and a fort oj uninflrucled Injlincl ? You fay right, replied he, and the reafon is manifeft : Were it otherwife, we ffiould make all Mankind univerfal Ar- tilts in every lingle Adtion of their Lives. And what can be a greater Abfurdity than this ? I confelfed that the Abfurdity ap- A Dialogue. 9 peared to be evident. But if nothing then, continued he, which we do by Com - puljion , or without intending it, be Art; and not even what we do intentionally , if it pro¬ ceed from mere Will and uninfruffied In- ftindt ; what is it we have left remaining, where Art may be found converfant ? Or can it indeed poffibly be in any thing elfe, than in that which we do by Ufe , Practice* Experience and the like, all which are born with no one, but are all acquired after¬ ward by advances unperceived. I can think, faid I, of nothing elfe. Let there¬ fore the Words Habit and Habitua /, faid he, reprefent this Requifite, and let us fay, that Art is not only a Caufe, but an in¬ tentional Caufe; and not only an intentio¬ nal Caufe , but an intentional Caufe found¬ ed in Habit , or, in other Words, an habi¬ tual Caufe. You appear, faid I, to argue rightly. But if Art, faid he, be what we have now afferted. fomething learnt and acquired j if it be alfo a thing intentional or io Concerning ART, or voluntary , and not governed either bf Chance or blind Necejjity *—If this, I fay, be the Cafe, then mark the Confequences. And what, faid I, are they ? The firlT, faid he, is, that no Events, in what we call the natural World, muff be referred to Art; fuch as Tides, Winds, Vegetation, Gravitation, Attraction, and the like. For thefe all happen by Hated Laws; by a curi¬ ous Necejfity , which is not to be withftood, and where the nearer and immediate Canfes appear to he wholly unconfcious. I con- fefs, faid I, it feems fo. In the next place, continued he, we muft exclude all thofe admired Works of the Animal Worlds which, for their Beauty and Order, we me¬ taphorically call artificial. The Spider's Web, the Bee’s Comb, the Beaver’s Houfe, and the Swallow’s Neff, muft allbejreferred to another Source—For who can fay, thefe ever learnt to be thus ingenious ? or, that they were ignorant by Nature, and knowing only by Education? None, furely, re¬ plied I. But we have Hill, faid he, a higherConfideration. And what, faid I, is A Dialogue. it is that ? It is, anfwered he, this —. Not even that Divine Power , which gave Form to all things, then aBedby Art, when it gave that Form. For how, continued he, can that Intelligence, which has all PerfeBion ever in Energy , be fuppofed to have any Power, not original to its Nature? How can it ever have any thing to learn, when it knows allfrom the Beginning ; or, being perfeB and complete , admit of what is additional andfecondary ? I fliould think, faid I, it were impoffible. If fo, faid he, then Art can never be numbered among its Attributes: For all Art is fome- thing learnt , tomzihingfecondary and ac¬ quired, and never original to any Hein?, which pcfleffes it. So the Fadl, faid I, has been eflablilhed. If this therefore, continued he, be true; if Art belong not either to the Divine Nature, the Brute Nature, or the Inanimate Nature,-—to what Nature (hall we fay it does belong ? I know not, faid I, unlefs it be to the hlnman. You are right, faid 7 he; S& Concerning ART, he ; for every Nature elfe you perceive is either too excellent to want it, or toobafe to be capable of it. Befide, except the Human, what other Nature is there left ? Or where elfe can we find any of the Arts already inftanced, or indeed whatever others we may now fancy to enumerate ? Who are Statuaries, but Men ? Who Pilots, who Muficians ? This feems, replied I, to be the Fadt. Let us then, continued he, fay, net only that Art is a Caufe , but that it is Man becoming a Caufe; and not only Man, but Man intending to do what is going to be done , and doing it alfo by Habit; fo that its whole Idea, as far as we have hitherto conceived it, is- Man becoming a Caufe , Intentional and Habitual. I con- fefs, faid I, it has appeared fo. And thus, faid he, have you had exhi¬ bited to you a Sketch of Art. You mull re¬ member however, it is but a Sketch : there is ftill fomething wanting to make it a fini Ihed A Dialogue. 13 finished Piece. I begged to know what this was. In order to that, replied he, I cannot do better, than remind you of a Paffage in your admired Horace. It is con¬ cerning Alfenus; who (if you remember) he tells us, though his Tools were laid afide, and his Shop {hut up, was ffcill an Artift as much as ever.—— -- Alfenus vafer omni Abjecio injlrumento Artis claupiq, taberna , Sutor erat ——■— I remember, faid I, the Paliage, but to what purpofe is it quoted ? Only, replied he, to {hew you, that I {hould not be without Prece¬ dent, were I to affirm it not abfolutely ne- ceffary to the being of Art, that it {hould be Man actually becoming a Caufe; but that it was enough, if he had th e Power or Capa¬ city of fo becoming. Why then, faid I, did you not fettle it fo at fird ? Becaufe, replied he, Faculties , Powers , Capacities (call them as you will) are in themfelves, abftradt from Action, but obfcure and hidden things. On the contrary Energies and Operations lie open to the Sen/es, and cannot 2 4 Concerning ART, cannot but be obferved, even whether wc will or no. And hence therefore, when ftrfc we treated of Art, we chofe to treat of it, as of a thing only in Energy. Now we better comprehend it, we have ventured fomewhat farther. Repeat then, faid I, if you pleafe, the Alteration, which you have made. At firft, anfwered he, we reafoned upon Art, as if it was only Man aBually becoming a Caufe intentional and habitual. Now we fay it is a Power in Man of becoming fuch Caufe ; and that, though he be not actually in the Exercife of fuch a Power . I told him, his Amend¬ ment appeared to be juft. There is too another Alteration, added he, which, for the fake of Accuracy, is equally wanting; and that is with refpe but fo many different Names of that complex Being called Good, under its various , and multi- form , and popular Appearances ? I re¬ plied, it feemed fo. If' this then, faid he, be granted, it fhould feem that the Beginning or Prin¬ ciple 26 Concerning ART, ciple of Art was the Abfence of fome thing thought Good ; becaufe it has appeared that it is for the fake of fome fuch abfent Good that every Art operates ; and becaufe, if we fuppofe no fuch Abfence to have been , we jhould never have known any Art. I confefs, faid I, it feems fo. But how then, continued he? If it be true that all Art implies fuch Principle , it is reciprocally true, that every fuch Principle Ihould imply Art ? I fee no reafon, faid I, why not. Confider, faid he. It might be thought a Good by fome perhaps, to be as ftrong as thofe Horfes, which are ploughing yonder Field; to be as tall as thofe Elms, and of a Nature as durable.-Yet would the Abfence of Goods, like thefe , lead to Art ? Or is it not abfurd to fuppofe, there fhould be an Art of Impoffibilities ? Abfurd, faid I, cer¬ tainly. If fo, faid he, when we define the Beginning or Principle of Art, it is not enough to call it the Abfence of fomething thought Goody unlefs we add, that the Good be A Dialogue. 27 be a Good Pojjible ; a "Thing attainable by Man ; <2 Thing relative to Human Life , rzW conjijlent with Human Nature: Ordoesnot this alfo appear a Requifite ? I replied., I thought it did. But hill, continued he-Is it a fuf- hcient Motive to Art, that the Good dejired ihould be attainable ? In other Words, does every Abfence of Good attainable lead to Art , or is our Account hill too loofe , and in need of hrider Determination ? Of none, laid I, which appears to me. Refled:, faid he; there are fome the pof- fible Goods fo obvious and eafy, that every Man, in an ordinary State of common na¬ tural Perfedlion , is able to acquire therm without Labour or Application. You will hardly deny but that a fair Apple, tempting to eat, may be gathered ; or a clear Spring, tempting to drink, may he drank ar, by the mere Suggehions of Will and unin - ftrudied Inf in 51 . I granted, they might. It would be therefore impertinent, faid he, to fuppofe that Goods, like thefe t Ihould 2$ Concerning ART* fhould lead to Art, becaufe Art would be Juperfluous, and in no refpeft neceffary. Indeed, faid I, it Teems To. If therefore, faid he, neither Impojjibles lead to Arty becaufe offuch there can be no Art y nor Things eafily pojfible, becaufe in fuck Nature can do without Art: what is it we have left, to which we may refer it ? Or can it indeed be to any other than to that middle Clafs of Things, which, however pof- fible, are flill not fo eafy, but to be beyond the Powers of Will, and Infh'nct unin- ftru&ed ? I replied, it Teemed fo. That there are many fuch things, faid he, is evident pad: doubt. For what Man •would pay Artifts fo largely for their Arts, were he enabled by Nature to obtain what¬ ever he def red ? Or who would ftudy to be flailed in Arts, were Nature’s original Powers to be of themfelves alonefufficient ? I told him, it was not likely. It fhould Teem then, faid he, according to this Reafoning,that the B z c i n n i n g , Mo¬ tive, A Dialogue. 29 tive, or Principle of Art ; that Caufe, which firft moves it to Aft ion, and ,for the fake of ’which its feveral Operations are exerted, is— the Want or Absence of some¬ thing appearing Good; relativeto H uman Life, and attainable by Man, but superior to his natural AND UNINSTRUCTED FACULTIES. I replied, I could not deny, but that the Account appeared probable. § 4. Let this then, faid he, fuffice, as to the Beginning of Art. But how (hall we defcribe its End ? What is it we fhall pro¬ nounce this ? My Anfwer, I replied, muff be the fame as often already; which was indeed, that I could not refolve the Queftion. It fhould feem, faid he, not fo difficult, now we have difcovered what Beginning is. For if Beginning and End are Contraries and oppofed, it is but to invert, as it were, the Notion of Begin¬ ning, and we gain of courfe the Notion of End. I afked him, in what manner ? Thus, faid he, the Beginning of Art has <5 been 30 Concerning ART, been held to b efomething, which , ffuppofed away , Men would be never moved to apply to Art. By Inverfion therefore the End of Art mu ft be fame thing, which , while fuppofed away , Men will never ceafe applying to Art j becaufe, were they to ceafe, while the End was wanting, they would ceafe with Im¬ perfection, and their Performance would be incomplete. To this I anfwered. That the Account, however true, was by far too general, to give me much Intelligence. He replied, If it was, he would endea¬ vour to be more particular. And what, continued he, fhould we fay, that every Art, according to its Genius, will of courfe be accomplijhed either in fome Energy , or in fome Work $ that, befides thefe two, it can be accomplifned in nothing elfe; and con- fequently that one of thefe muji of neeejjity be its End? I conld not here but anfwer him with a Smile, That the Matter was now much obfcurer than ever. I find then, faid he, it is proper we fhould be more explicit in our Inquiries, and deduce our Reafon- A Dialogue. 31 Reafonings from fome clearer Point of View. I told him, It was quite necef- fary, if he intended to be intelligible. Thus then, Paid he. You will grant, that every Art, being a Caufe, mujl be productive of fome Ejfeft ; for indance, Mufic, of a Tune; Dancing, of a Dance; Architecture, of a Palace ; and Sculpture, of a Statue It is allowed, faid I. You will grant alfo, faid he, that in thefe Productions they are all accomplifed and ended: Or, in other words, thatas Mufic produces a Tune, fo it is ended and accomplished in a Tune; and as Sculpture produces a Statue, fo is it ended and accomplished in a Statue. It is admitted, faid I. Now thefe Pro¬ ductions, continued he, if you will examine, are not like Units or Mathematical Points ; but, on the contrary, all confjl of a certain Number of Parts, from whofe accurate Or- der is derived their Beauty and Perfection . For example; Notes, ranged after fuch a manner, make a Tune in Mufic; and Limbs, ranged after fuch a manner, make a Statue 7 / 32 Concerning A R T, Statue or a Picture. I replied, They did. If then the Productions , continued he, of every Art thus confift of certain Parts , it will follow, that thefe Parts will be either co-exijlent , or not; and if not co-exijlent, then of courfe [uccejjive. Affift me, faid I, by another Inllance, for you are growing again obfcure. Co-exijlent, re*- plied he, as in a Statue, where Arms, Legs, Body, and Head allfubfijl together at one in¬ dividual In ft ant : Succeffive, as in a Tune or Dance, where thereis nofuch Co-exiftence, but where fom t Parts are everpuffing away, and others are ever fucceeding them. Can any thing be faid to exijl, faid I, whole Parts are ever pajjing away ? Surely, replied he, or how elfe exifl Years and Sealons, Months and Days, with their common Parent , Time itfelf ??—Or indeed what is Human Life , but a Compound of Parts thus jleeting ; a Compound of various and multiform Actions , which fucceed each other in a certain Order? The Fadt, faid I, appears fo. This A Dialogue. 33 This then, continued he, being the cafe, and there being this Difference in Produc¬ tions, call every Production, the Parts of which exijt fuccejfively, and whofe Nature hath its Being or E[fence in a Pranfition, call it, what it really Motion os an Energy— Thus a Tune and a Dance are Energies; thus Riding and Sailing are Energies; and fo is Elocution, and fo is Life itfelf. On the contrary, call every Production , whofe Parts exijt ail at once, and whofe Nature de¬ pends not on a Pranftion for its Efence, call it a Work, or Thing done, not an Energy or Operation.—*■—Thus a Houfe is a Work, a Statue is a Work, and fo is a Ship, and fo a Picture. I feem, faid I, to compre¬ hend you. If then there be no Productions, faid he, but muft be of Parts, either co-exiflent or Juccefive and the one of thefe be, as you perceive, a Work, and the other be an Energy ; it will follow, there will be no Production, but will be either a Work or an D Energy. 34 Concerning A R T, Energy. There will not, faid l. But every Art, faid he, you have granted, is accomplijhed and ended in what it produces ? I replied, I had. And there are no Productions , but Works or Energies ? None. It will follow then, faid he, that every Art will be accomplished and end¬ ed in a Work or Energy. To this I anfwered, That his Reafoning I could not impeach; but that ftill the Di- HinCtion of Work and Energy was what I did not well comprehend. There are feveral Circuinftances, faid he, which will ferve fufficiently to make it clear. I begged he would mention fome. Thus then, faid he-When the Pro¬ duction of any Art is an Energy , then the PerfeCiwn op the Art can be only perceived during that Energy. For inftance, the Per¬ fection of a Mulician is only known, while he continues playing. But when the Pro¬ duction A Dialogue. 35 du—-an habitual Power in Man y of becoming the Caufe of fame Effedl, according to a Syjiem of 'various and well- approved Precepts. If it be afked us, On what Subjedl Art operates? We can answer, 8 On 44 Concerning ART, On a contingent, which is within the reach of the Human Powers to influence . If it be afked us. For what Peafon, for the fake of what , Art operates ? We may reply. For thefake of fome abfent Good , relative to Hu¬ man Life, and attainable by Man , but fupe- rior to his natural and uninflrubded Facul¬ ties. Laftly, if it be afked. Where it is the Op erations of Art end? We may fay. Fit her in fome Energy, or in fome Work. He added. That if be were not afraid of the Imputation of Pedantry, he could be almofl tempted to fay. That we had been confidering Art, with refpedt to thofe four Caufes, fo celebrated once among ProfefTors in the Schools. By thefe, upon Inquiry, I found that he meant certain Caufes, called the* Efficient, the -f Material, the^Final, and the || Formal. But * P. 17. i P. 34) 3 6 * f P. 22. t P. 28, 29. yl Dialogue. 45 But here, without farther explaining, he begged for the prefect that we might conclude, being fufficiently, as he faid, fatigued with the Length of what had palled already. The Requed was reafon- able I could not but own, and thus ended our Converfation, and foon after it our Walk. J/ig E N D. ' ' , , . 'ij *. .... ij TREATISE THE SECOND A DISCOURSE On MUSIC, PAINTING, and P O E T R Y. - ' ■ ( 49 ) CONTENT Si CHAPTER the First. * 1 “ NTRODUCTION —— Defgn and Diftribution of the Whole—Preparation for the following Chapters. CHAPTER the Second. On the Subjects which Painting imitates —- On the Subjects which Mufc imitates —* Comparifon of Mufc with Painting. CHAPTER the Third. On the Subjects which Poetry imitates , but imitates only thro natural Media , Gr mere Sounds— —Comparifon of Poetry in this Capacity , firfi with Painting , then with Mufc. E CHAP- 5° CONTENTS. CHAPTER the Fourth. On the SubjeBs which Poetry imitates,-not by mere Sounds or natural Media, but by Words Significant; the Subjects being fuck to which the Genius of each of the other two Arts is mod; perfectly adapted .— ItsCom- parifon in thefe Subjects, firft with Paint - ing, then with Mufic . CHAPTER the Fifth. On the Subjects which Poetry imitates by Words Significant, being at the fame time Subjects not adapted to the Genius of either of the other Arts - The Nature of thefe Subjects. *--'- The Abilities of Poetry to imitate them.—Comparifon of Poetry in refpedi of thefe Subjects, frfl with Paint¬ ing, then with Mufic . CHAP- CONTENTS. 5 1 CHAPTER the Sixth. On Mufic confiderednot as an Imitation, but as deriving its 'Efficacy from another Source .- On its joint Operation by this means with Poetry•—An Objection to Mujic folved.—Phe Advantage arifing to it, as well as to Poetry, from their being united*—*—Conchffion* E z A ( 53 ) A DISCOURSE On MUSIC, PAINTING, and POETRY. CHAP. I. Introduction. — T>ejign and JDiJlribution of the Whole.—Preparationfor the following Chapters. A LL Arts have this in common, Ch. I. that they refpeCl Human Life. v --v—■ Some contribute to its Necefji- ties , as Medicine and Agriculture ; others to its Elegance , as Muftc, Painting, and Poetry. Now, with refpedt to thefe two diffe- rent Species , the necejfary Arts feem to have been prior in time ; if it be probable, that E 3 Men A Discourse on MUSIC, I. Men confulted how to live and to fupport mmmJ themfelves* before they began to deliberate how to render Life agreeable. Nor is this indeed unconfirmed by Fadt, there being no Nation known fobarbarous and ignorant, as where the Rudiments of thefe necejfary Arts are not in fome degree cultivated. , And hence poffibly they may appear to be the more excellent and worthy* as having claim to a Preference , derived from their Seniority . The Arts however of Elegance cannot be laid to want Pretenfions, if it be true, that Nature framed us for fome thing more than mere Exijlence . N ay, farther *, if Well- being be clearly preferable to Mere-being , and this without itbebut a thing contempt¬ ible, they may have reafon perhaps to afpire even to a Superiority. But enough of this, to come to our Purpofe. § 2 . * ’o V TO £>11/ TTTfpl TS’XtlfiS zrowltov, *AAA« to iv tfy. Plat, in Critone. PAINTING, and POETRY. 55 §2. The Defign of this Difcourfe is toCh. I. treatofMusic, Painting, and Poetry^ to confider in what they agree, and In what they differ , and which upon the WHOLE, IS MORE EXCELLENT THAN THE OTHER TWO. In entering upon this Inquiry, it is firfl to be obferved, that the Mind is made confcious of the natural World and its Af¬ fections, and of other Minds and their Affections, by the feveral Organs of the Settfes ( a ). By the fame Organs , thefe Arts exhibit to the Mind Imitations, and imitate either Parts or AffeCtions of this natural E 4 World, (a) To explain fome future Obfervations, it will be proper here to remark, that the Mind from thefe Materials thus brought together , and from its own Ope¬ rations on them , and in conference of them , becomes fraught with Ideas -and that many Minds fo fraught, by a fort of Compact aligning to each Idea fome Sound to be its Mark or Symbol, were thefirjl Inventors and Founders of Language. See Vol. II. ox Hermes, Lib. iii, cap. 3. 4. 56 A Discourse on MUSIC, Cho I. World ? or e]fe the Paffions, Energies, and —i Affejfiions of Minds. There is this Difference however between th zkArts and Nature ; thatNaturepaflesto the Percipient thro 5 all the Senfes$ whereas thefe Arts ufe only two of them, that of Seeing and that of Hearing, And hence it is that the fen - file Objedls or Media , thro’ which (b) they imitate, can be fuck only, as thefe two Senfes are framed capable of perceiving; and thefe Media are Motion , Sound , Colour , and Figure. Paint- (b) To prevent Confufion it rmift be obferved, that in all thefe Arts there is a Difference between the fenfible Media , thro ’ which they imitate , and the Subjects imitated. The fenfible Media, thro’ which they imitate, muft he always relative to that Senfe , by which the particular Art applies to the Mind ; but the Subject imitated may be foreign to that Senfe, and beyond the Power of its Perception. Painting, for in- Itance, (as is fhewn in this Chapter) has no fenfible Media , thro’ which it operates, except Colour and Figure: But as to Subjects, it may have Motions, Sounds, moral Affections and Actions ; none of which are either Colours or Figures, hut which however are all capable of being imitated thro ’ them. See Chapter the fecond. Notes (£), (c), [d). PAINTING, and POETRY. 57 Painting, having the Eye for its Or ~ Ch. I. gan , cannot be conceived to imitate, but‘“’^ ,r ’““ thro’ the Media of v'fble Objects. And farther, its Modeofimitating being always motionlefs , there mud be fubtradted from thefe the Medium of Motion. It remains then, that Colour and Figure are the only Media, thro’ which Painting imitates. Music, palling to the Mind thro’ the Organ of the Ear , can imitate only by Sounds and Motions . Poetry, having the Ear alfo for its Organ , as far as Words are confidered to be no more than mere Sounds , can go no far¬ ther in Imitating, than may be performed by Sound and Motion. But then, as thefe its Sounds fand by * Compact for the various Ideas , with which the Mind is fraught , it is enabled by this means to imitate, asfar as Lan - * See Note (a) Page 55 . c8 A Discourse on MUSIC, Ch. I, Language can exprefs jandthatit is evident will, in a manner, include all things. Now from hence may he feen, how thefe Arts agree , and how they differ. They agree, by being ^//Mimetic, or Imitative. They differ , as they imitate by different Media ; Painting by Figure and Colour; Music, by Sound and Motion', Painting and Music, by Media Much are Natural ; Poetry, for the greateftPart, by a Medium^ which is Artificial (c). § 3 - (c) A Figure painted, or a compofition of Mu- fical Sounds have always a natural Relation to that, of which they are intended to be the Refemllance. But a Defcription in W ords has rarely any fuch natural Relation to the feveral Ideas, of which thefe Words are the Symbols. None therefore underftand the Defcrip¬ tion, but thofe who Jpeak the Language. On the con¬ trary, Mufical and Picture-Imitations arc intelligible to all Aden. 6 Why PAINTING, and POETRY. 59 § 3. As to that Art, which upon theCh. I. whole is moji excellent of the three; it muft be obferved, that among thefe various Media of imitating, fome will naturally beac¬ curate, feme lefs fome will befl imitate one Subjed fome, another. Again, among the Number of Subjedls there will be natu¬ rally alfo a Difference, as to Merit and De¬ merit. There will be fome fublime , and fome low } fome copious, and fome fort •> fome pathetic, and others void of Pajjion; fome formed to injlrudt, and others not ca¬ pable of it. Now, from thefe two Circumftances; that is to fay, from the Accuracy of the Imitation , and the Merit of the Subjell imitated, the Queftion concerning which Art is mofk excellent, muft be tried and de¬ termined. This W hy it is faid that Poetry is not univerfally , but only for the greater part artificial, fee below, Chapter the Third, where what Natural Force it has, is ex¬ amined and eftimated. Co A Discourse on MUSIC, Ch. I. This however cannot be done, without a Detail of Particulars , that fo there may be formed, on every part, juft and accurate Comparifons. To begin therefore with Painting, CHAP. PAINTING, and POETRY. 61 CHAP. II. On the Subjects which Painting imitates .—• On the Subjects which Mujic imitates .— Comparifon of Mufc with Painting. T HE fittest Subjects FORCh. II, Painting, are all fuch Things and Incidents, as are*peculiarly cha- radlerifed by Figure and Colour. Of this kind are the whole Mafs (a) of Pilings inanimate and vegetable j fuch as Flowers, Fruits, Buildings, Landfkips— The various T ribes of Animal Figures; fuch as Birds, Beafts, Herds, Flocks——The Motions and Sounds peculiar to each Animal Species, when accompanied with Configura¬ tions , which are obvious and remarkablefi)-- The * P. 57 - ( a ) The Reafon is, that ihefe things are almoft wholly known to us by theirs Colour and Figure. Be¬ tides, they are as motionlefs> for the moft part, in Nature , as in the Imitation. ( b ) Instances of this kind are the Flying of Birds, the Galloping of Horfes, the Roaring of Lions, the Crowing of Cocks. And the Reafon is, that 4 though 62 A D iscourse on MUSIC, Ch. II. The Human Body in all its Appearances (as Male, Female; Young, Old; Handfome, Ugly;) and in all its Attitudes , (as Laying, Sitting, Standing, &c .~——-The Natural Sounds peculiar to the Human Species, (fuch asCrying, Laughing, Hollowing, &c.) (c) — All Energies , PoJJions , and Affections of the Soul, being in any degree more intenje or 'violent though to paint Motion or Sound be impoffible , yet the Motions and Sounds here mentioned having an im¬ mediate and natural Connexion with a certain vifible Configuration of the Paris , the Mind, from a Prcfpect of this Configuration , conceives infenfbly that which is concomitant ; and hence it is that, by a fort of Fallacy , the Sounds and Motions appear to be painted aifo. On the contrary, not fo in fuch Mo¬ tions, as the Swimming of many kinds of Fifli ; or in fuch Sounds, as the Purring of a Cat; becaufe here is no fuch fpecial Configuration to be perceived. —Horner in his Shield deferibing the Picture of a Bull feized by two Lions, fays of theBull— o S\ [a .otvtoa yap.vyi ui ,, EXxtIo — He, bellow nig loudly , was drap’d along. "Where Eufiathius , in commenting on this Bellowing, fays, IJ'jiAa rw xfiuocli, as he (the Bull) made manifejl (in the Picture) by his Figure or Attitude. Huff, in J. 2- p. 1224. (r) The Reafon is of the fame kind, as that given in the Note immediately preceding ; and by the fame Rule, the Obfervation muff be confined to natural Sounds only. In Language , few of the Speakers know the Configurations , which attend it. PAINTING, and POETRY. 6 violent than ordinary (d )—~—All Allions Ch. II. and Events, whofe Integrity or Wholenefs depends upon a Jloort andfelf-evident Suc- ceffion of Incidents ( while Poetry is forced to want this Circumftance of Intelligibility, by being ever obliged to enter into fome de¬ gree of Detail ——in as much as this Detail creates often the Dilemma of either be¬ coming tedious , to be clear; or if not tedious , then obfcure -laftly, in as much as all Imitations more fmilar> more imme¬ diatei we have an Image not of that Eve, which Milton* conceived, but of fucb an Eve only , as every one, by bis own proper Genius , is able to reprefent, from reflecting on thofe Ideas , which he has annexed to thefe feveral Sounds. The greater Part, in the mean time, have never perhaps bellowed one accurate Thought upon what Grace, Heaven , Love^ and Dignity mean ; or ever enriched the Mind with Ideas of Beauty, or afked whence they are to be acquired, and by what Proportions they are conjlituted. On the contrary, when we view Eve as painted by an able Painter , we labour under no fuch Difficulty ; becaufe we have exhibited before us the better Con¬ ceptions of an Artist, the genuine Ideas of perhaps a Titian or a Raphael. 4 PAINTING, and POETRY. 79 » * diate, and more intelligible , are preferableCh.IV. to thofe which are lefs fo ; and for Reafons above, the Imitations cf Poetry are lefs fmiliar , lefs immediate , and lefs in¬ telligible than thofe of Painting —-—From ALL THIS it will follow, that- IN ALL Subjects, where Painting can FULLY EXERT ITSELF, THE IMITA¬ TIONS of Painting are superior TO THOSE OF POETRY, AND CQNSE- QUENTLY IN ALL SUCH SUBJECTS. that Painting has the Prefe¬ rence. § 3. And now to compare Poetry with Music, allowing to Mujic the fame Advantageof a e well-adapted§ub]z&. f which has already been allowed to Painting in the Comparifon juft preceding. What fuch a Subject is, has already been * defciibed. And as to Preference , it muft * See Chap. II. % 2. So A Discourse on MUSIC, Ch.IV. mufl he confefied, that—•—In as much a3 Musical Imitations, tho’ Natural, afpire hot to raife the fame Ideas, but only Ideas ||fimilar and analogous; while Poetic Imitation, tho’ Artificial , raifes Ideas the very fame —in as much as the Definite and Certain is ever preferable to the Indefi¬ nite and Uncertain ; and that more efpeci- ally in Imitations, where the principal if) Delight is in recognizing the Thing imitating f| P. 68, 69. tf) That there is an eminent Delight in this very Recognition itfelf, abflraft from any thing pleafmg in the Subject recognized, is evident from hence-that, in all the Mimetic Arts, we can be highly charmed with Imitations , at whofe Originals in Nature we are /hocked and terrified. Such, for in- fiance, as Dead Bodies, Wild. Beafls, and the like. The Caufe, afligned for this, feems to be of the following kind. We have a Joy, not only in the Sanity and Perfection , but alfo in the juji and na¬ tural Energies of our feveral Limbs and Faculties . And hence, among others, the Joy in Reasoning ; as being the Energy of that principal Faculty , our In j tellect or Understanding. This Joy ex¬ tends, not only to the Wife, but to the Multitude. Tor ail Men have an Aver fan to Ignorance and Error . and 7 PAINTING, and POETRY. 8i imitated ■—it will follow from hence that—.Ch.IV. even in Subjects thebestadapted'”^^ to Musical Imitation, the Imita¬ tion of Poetry will be still more excellent. and in fome degree, however moderate, are glad to learn and to inform themfelves. Hence therefore the Delight , arifmg from thefe Imitations ; as we are enabled, in each of them, to exercije the Reasoning Faculty ; and, by com¬ paring the Copy with the Architype in our Minds, to infer that this is such a thing ; and, that, another ; a Fadt remarkable among Children, even in their find and earlieft Days. To, rf ycto pUf/,up} Taro 0 TxCf>spn(ri tcov uaAcov gcoojv, ert [juy.rJiKtijTtxIov f’fi, xetl rx; zronTrui hd / \ / \ \ / ^ / mp.Y\(rtw$ roeg zr^Crjrag y^ to %xigEiv rotg (xi^txoctri 7Tolv\x ?. SUjUJiOV /,. * / v , > > \ n \ ~ uAAx Xy Toiq a aaoi? ofxoixq aAA z~n ppot%y hoihouz** criii au Id. Aid yxp> thto y^xfpuci Ttdq siKoixxq opcadleq, oti o’vu.&ai'vsi S’eupbvlctg /xoaiQocuuv K) (rvAAoylfcrQdtiy t; stizroV olov, oti irQ 3 IktTv^. Arid. Poet. c. 4 . G C H 4 P. $2 A Discourse on MUSIC, CHAP. V. On the Subjects 'which Poetry imitates by V/ords JigniJicant, being at the fame time Subjects not adapted to the Genius of either of the other Arts—The Nature of thofe Subjects—The Abilities of Poetry to imitate them - Comparifon of Poetry in thefe Subjeds, firft with Painting > then with Mufc. Ch. V . r 1 'HE Mimetic Art of Poetry JL has now been confidered in two Views—FirPc, as imitating by mere natural Media ; and in this it has been placed on a level with Music, but much inferior to Painting—I t has been fince con- lidered as imitating thro’ Sounds fignificant by Compact , and that in fuch Subjeds re- fpedively, where Painting and Music have the fullef Power to exert themfelves. 7 Here PAINTING, and POETRY. f ' • Mere to Painting it has been held inferior , Ch but to Mufic it has been preferred. It remains to be confiderecl—-—what i other Subjects Poetry has left, to which the Genius of the other two Arts is lefs per¬ fectly adapted —How far Poetry is able to imitate them-and whether from the Perfection of its Imitation, and the Nature of the Subjects themfelves, it ought to be called no more than equal to its Sifter Arts; or whether, on the whole, it fhould not rather be called fuperior . § 2. To begin, in the fir ft place, by comparing it with Painting. The Subjects of Poetry , to which the Genius of Painting is not adapted\ are-— all Actions, whofe (a) Whole is of fo G 2 lengthened (a) For a juft; and accurate Defcription of Whole- tiefs and Unity> fee An ft Poet. Ch. 7 & 8. and BoJfu y his beft Interpreter, in his Treadle on the Epic Poem. B. II. ch. 9, io, 11. A Discourse on MUSIC, V. lengthened a Duration, that no Point of Time, in any part of that Whole, can be given fit for Painting ; neither in its Be¬ ginning, which will teach what is Sulfe- quent nor in its End, which will teach what is Previous ; nor in its Middle, which will declare both th & Previous and the Sub- fequent. -Alfo ajl Subjects fo framed, as to lay open the inter nalConfiitution of Man, and give us an Infight into (fi) Characters, Manners, Pajjions, and Sentiments. The (/>) For a Defcription of Character, fee be¬ low, Note ff) of this Chapter, As for Manners, it may be laid in general, that a certain Syjiem of them makes a Character ; and that as thefe Syltems, by being differently compounded, make each a different Character, fo is it tiiat one Man truly differs from another. Passions are obvious - r Pity, Fear , Anger , &c. Sentiments are difcoverable in all thofe Things, which are the proper Bufmefs and End of Speech or Discourse. The chief Branches of this End are to Affert and Prove ; to Solve and Re¬ fute ; to exprefs or excite Papons ; to amplify In¬ cidents* PAINTING, and POETRY. 85 The Merit of thefe Subjects is obvious. Ch. V. They mud neceffarily of all be the moft ^— J affedi ing ; the mod improving ; and fuch of which the Mind has the jirongeji Com - prehenjion « For as to the affecting Part—it it be true, that all Events more orlefs affect us, as the Subjects, which they refpedl, are more or lefs nearly related to us > then furely thofe Events mud needs be moji af¬ fecting, to whofe Subjects we are of all the moji intimately related. Now fuch is the Relation, which we bear to Mankind; and Men and Human Actions are the Subjects, here propofed for Imitation. G 3 As cidents, and to diminijb them. It is in thefe things therefore, that we muft look for Sentiment. See Arift. Poet. c. 19.- sft xc<x ryv Aixvoixv toc'jtoc , o which is derived from a juft and decent Reprefentation of Human Manners , and Sentiments. For what can more contribute to give us that Majier-Knowledge (r), with¬ out (O r N n © I 2 AT TON. But farther, befides obtaining this moral Science from the Con¬ templation of Human Life ; an End common both to Epic, Tragic, and Comic Poetry ; there is a pecu¬ liar End to Tragedy , that of eradicating the Paffions of Pity and Fear. 'Efiv rPOcyM/z f/ap;crif zrga£tco; (nns$cztois xj TtXtioa;- —ch* xj £ pa€x zrcgaii/xira tt,v ruv TowTcov zruQvp-ccTwv xeZQxg it can obtain the fame End. It muff however, for ail this, be confeffed, that an Effect of this kind cannot reafonably be expended, except among Nations, like the Athenians of old, who lived in a perpetual Attendance upon thefe Theatrical Reprefentations. For it is not a fingle or occafional Application to thefe Paffions, but a conflani and uninterrupted , by which alone they may be leffened or removed. It would be improper to conclude this Note, without obferving, that the Philofopher in this place by Pity means not Philanthropy, Na¬ tural Affediion , a Readinefs to relieve others in their Calamities and Dijlrcf ; but, by Pity , he means that Senseless Effeminate Consternation, 1 which feizes weak Minds , on the fudden Profpedi of any thing difajlrous ; which, in its more violent Effects, is feen in Shriekings , Swoonings 3 &c. a Paffion, fo far from laudable, or from operating to the Good of others, that it is certain to deprive the Party, who labours under its Influence, of all Capacity to do the leaji good Office. 83 A Discourse on MUSIC, Ch. V. As to our Comprehsnjion- -there is no- thing certainly, of which we have fo ftrong Ideas, as of that which happens in the Moral or Human World. For as to the Internal Part , or Active Principle of the Vegetable , we know it bu iobfcurely, becaufe there we can difcover neither Pajjion , nor Senfation. In the Animal World indeed this Principle is more feen, and that from the PaJJions and Senfations which there de¬ clare themfelves. Yet all hill refts upon the mere Evidence of Sen/e ; upon the Force only of external and unajjifted Experience • But in the Moral or Human World, as we have a Medium of Knowledge far more accurate than this; fo from hence it is, that we can comprehend accordingly. With regard therefore to the various Events which happen here , and the various Caufesy by which they are produced- in other Words, of all Characters, Manners, - Human Paffions, and Sentiments; befides the Evidence of Senfe 3 we have the highejl Evidence $9 PAINTING, and POETRY. Evidence additional , in having an exprefs Ch. V. Confcioifnefs of fomet 1 i i ng familiar within of fomething homogeneous in the Recedes of our own Minds; in that, which conftitutes to each of us his true and real Self. These therefore being the Subjects, not adapted to the Genius of Tainting, it comes next to be coniidered, how far Poetry can imitate them. And here, that it has Abilities clearly equal , cannot be doubted 5 as it has that for the Medium of its Imitation, through which Nature declares herfelf in the fame Subjects. For the Sentiments in real Life are only known by Men’s * Difcourfe. And the Char afters. Manners , and Paffons of Men being the Prompters to what they fay ; if mu ft needs follow, that their Dif¬ courfe will be a conflant Specimen of thole Char afters, Manners , and Pqfjions. Format * P. 84, Note (b). A Discourse on MUSIC, Ch. V.* Format enim Natura prius nos intus ad % ~~~ v ' omnem Fortunarum habitum; juvat, aut impellit ad iram : F>oft effert Animi Motus, Interprete Lingua. Not only therefore Language Is an ade¬ quate Medium of Imitation, but in Senti¬ ments it is the only Medium ; and in Man¬ ners and PaJJions there is no other, which can exhibit them to us after that clear , precife , and definite Way , as they in Nature Hand allotted to the various forts of Men, and are found to conftitute the federal Cha¬ racters of each (d). * Hor. de Arte Poet. verf. 108. (d) It is true indeed that (befides what is done by Poetry) there is fome Idea of Character, which even Painting can communicate. Thus there is no doubt, but that fuch a Countenance may be found by Painters for /Eneas, as would convey upon view a mild , PAINTING, and POETRY, 91 § 3. To compare therefore Poetry , in y phefe SubjeBs, with Painting— In as much as no Subjects of Painting are* wholly pa¬ per ior % p - 57 > 5 8 - 75 > 7 6 * mild, humane, and yet a brave Difpofition. But then this Idea would be vague and general. It would be concluded, only in the grofs, that the Hero was Good. As to that Sydem of Qualities peculiar to Adneas only, and which alone properly confitutes his true and real Character, this would dill remain a Secret, and be no way difcoverable. For bow de¬ duce it from the mere Lineaments o f a Countenance? Or, if it w‘ere deducible, how few Speculators would there be found fo fagacious ? It is here therefore, that Recourfe mud be had, not to Painting, but to Poetry. So accurate a Conception of Character can be gathered only from a Succejfion of various, and yet confident Actions ; a Succedion, enabling us to conjec¬ ture, what the Perfon of the Drama will do in the future, from what already he has done in the pafl. Now to fuch an Imitation, Poetry only is equal ; becaufe it is not bounded, like Painting, to fort, and, as it were, infant Events, but may imitate Subjedls of any Duration whatever. See Arif. Poet. cap. 6. !l Eft Pe r, 0 oc fxh to toixtov, 0 or^oi rrjv zxpoociourii) CiTToHJi TIS lf)v, iv oi? ihc Ifl OYiXOV, il ZegOCilgilTXl 7} Opivysi b xiyvv. See alfo the ingenious and learned Bfju, Book 4. ch. 4. cj>2 A D iscourse on MUSIC, ■r&ifr- Cli. V fenor to Poetry ; while the Subjects, here defcribed, fat' exceed the Power of Paint¬ ing-in as much as they are of all Sub¬ jects the molt ~j~ af 'tiding, and improving , and fuch of which we have the firongejl Comprehenfon --further, in as much as Poetry can mo ft J accurately imitate them— in as much as, befides all Imitation, there is a Charm in Poetry, arifing from its very Numbers (• , ( I0 7 ) Concerning HAPPINESS, A DIALOGUE. PART the First. J. H. to f. s. N ATURE feems to treat Man,Parti, as a painter would his difciple, i “~ %- — J to whom he commits the out¬ lines of a Figure lightly lketched* which the Scholar for himfelf is to colour and complete. Thus from Nature we derive Senfes, and Paffions, and an Intellect, which each of us for himfelf has to model into a Charader. And hence (the reverfe ef 4 10S Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. of every Species befide) Human Characters * v—' alone are infinitely various; as various in¬ deed, as there are Individuals to form them. Hence too, the great Diverfity of Syflems, and of DoCtrmes, refpeCting the Laws and Rules, and Conduct of Human Life. It is in the Hiflory of thefe, my Friend, you have fo fuccefsfully employed yourfelf. You have been fludious to know, not fo much what Greeks , Romans , or Barbarians have done-, as what they have reafoned, and what they have taught . Not an Epicure has more Joy in the Memory of a d II- cious Banquet, than I feel in recollecting, what we have difcourfed on thefe Sub¬ jects. And here you cannot forget (for we were both unanimous) the Contempt, in which we held thofe fuperficial Cenfurers, who profefs to refute, what they want even Capacities to comprehend. Upon the Faith of their own Boafling (could that be credited) A Dialogue. 109 credited) Sentiments are expofed,Opinions Part I. demolifhed, and the whole Wifdom of J Antiquity lies vanquidied at their Feet. Like Opera Heroes, upon their own Stage, they can with eafe difpateh a Lion, or dif- comfit a whole Legion. But alas! were they to encounter, not the Shadow, but the Subdance, what think you would be the Event then ?—Little better, I fear, than was the Fortune of poor Priam, when the feeble Old Man durd attack the Youthful Pyrrhus . •—'— * Pelum imbelle Jine idlu Conjecit: rauco quodprotenus cere repulfum, EtfummoClypei nequicquam umbone pependiu Among the many long exploded and obfolete Sydems, there was one, you may remember, for which I profeffed a great Edeem. Not in the lead degree con¬ vinced by all I had heard againd if, I durd * JEneid. 1. 2. verf. 544. I I IO Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. durft venture to affirm, that no Syftem u "‘ nr ' was more plaufible j that grant but its Principles , and the reji followed of courfe; that none approached nearer to the Per¬ fection cf our own Religion, as I could prove, were there occafion, by Authority not to be controverted. Asyou, I knew, were the Favourer of an Hypothecs feme- what ‘f* different ; fo 1 attempted to fup- port my own, by reciting you a certain Dialogue. Not fucceeding however fo happily in the Recolle&ion, as I could wiffi, I have fince endeavoured to tran- feribe, what at that time I would have re- hearfed. The Refult of my Labour is the following Narrative, which I commit, with Confidence to your Friendfhip and Can-* dour. § 2. It was at a time, when a certain Friend, whom I highly value, was my Gueft. We had been lifting together, enter- t Viz. the Platonic. A Dialogue. i i x entertaining ourfetves with Shakejpear. Parti. Among many of his Characters, we had u ^* yTOW looked into that of JVoo/fey . How foon, fays my Friend, does the Cardinal in Dif- grace abjure that Happinefs, which he was lately fo fond of? Scarcely out of Office, but he begins to exclaim *Vain Pomp and Glory of the WorldUhateye. So true is it, that our Sentiments ever vary with the Seafon 3 and that in Adverflty we are of one Mind, in Profperity, of another. As for his mean Opinion, faid I, of Human Happinefs, it is a Truth, which fmall Reflection might have taugh t him long before. There feems little need of Diftrefs to inform us of this. I rather commend the feeming Wifdom of that'f-Eaftern Mo¬ narch, who in the Affluence ofProfperity, when he was proving every Pleafure, was yet fo fenfible of their Emptinefs, their In¬ sufficiency to make him happy, that he pro- * Shakespeare Henry the Eighth* f Tu/c. Difp. v. 7. 112 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. proclaimed a Reward to the Man, who v—^ fhould invent a new Delight. The Re¬ ward indeed was proclaimed, but the De¬ light was not to be found. If by Delight, Paid he, you mean fome Good ; fomething conducive to real Happinefs it might have been found perhaps, and yet not hit the Monarch’s Fancy. Is that, faid I, poflible? It is poflible, replied he, tho’ it had been the Sovereign Gooditfelf-' ——And indeed what wonder? Is it probable that fuch a Mortal, as an Eaftern Monarch fuch a pampered, flat¬ tered, idle Mortal; fhould have Attention, or Capacity to a Subject fo delicate ? A Subjed, enough to exercife the Subtleft and mod Acute ? What then is it you efleem, faid I, the Sovereign Good to be ? It fhould feem, by your Reprefentation, to be fomething very uncommon. Afk me nottheQueftion, faid he, you know not where it will carry us. Its general Idea indeed is eafy and plain j but the Detail of Particulars is perplexed A Dialogue. 113 perplexed and long--Paffions, and Opi- Part I. nions for ever thwart us-a Paradox appears in almoft every Advance. Befides, did our Inquiries fucceed ever fo happily, the very Subjedi itfelf is always enough to give me Pain. That, replied I, feems a Paradox indeed. It is not, faid he, from any Prejudice, which I have con¬ ceived again!! it ; for to Man I efteem it the noblef! in the World. Nor is it for being a Subject, to which my Genius does not lead me ; for no Subject at all times has more employed my Attention. But the Truth is, I can fcarce ever think on it but an unlucky Story ftill occurs to my Mind. “ A certain Star-gazer, with his “ Telelcope was once viewing the Moons “ and defcribing her Seas, her Mountains, t( and her Territories. Says a Clown to “ his Companion, Let him fpy what he pleafes ; we are as near to the Moon , as “ he and all his Brethren .” So fares it alas ! with thefe, our moral Speculations. Practice too often creeps , where Theory can four . The Philcfopher proves as weak, I as 114 Co?icerning HAPPINESS, Part I. as thofe, whomhemojl contemns. A morti- ' fying Thought to fuch as well attend it» Too mortifying, replied I, to be long dwelt on. Give us rather your ge¬ neral Idea of the Sovereign Good. This is eafy from your own Account, however in¬ tricate the Detail. G Thus then, faid he, fince you are fo urgent, it is thus that I conceive it. The Sovereign Good is that, the Pos¬ session of which renders us Happy. And how, faid I, do we pofTefs it? Is it Senfual , or Intellectual? There you are entering, faid he, upon the Detail . This is beyond your Queffcion. Not a fmall Advance, faid I, to indulge poor Curiofity ? Will you raife me a Third, and be fo cruel not to allay it ? It is not, replied he, of my raifing, but your own. Belides I am not certain, fhould I attempt to proceed, whether you will admit fuch Authorities , as it is poffible I may vouch. That, faid I, mud be determined by their Weight, and Character. Sup- pofe, « A Dialogue. 11 5 pofe, faid he, it fhould be Mankind 5 Part.I the whole Human Race. Would you not think it fomething ftrange, to feek of thofe concerning Good, who purfue it a thou - fund Ways , and many of them contra¬ dictory I confefs, faid I, it feems fo. And yet, continued he, were there a Point, in which fuch Dffentients ever agreed , this Agree?nent would be no mean Argument in favour of its Truth and JuJl~ nefs. But where, replied I, is this Agreement to be found ? He anfwered me by afking, What if it fhould appear, that there were certain Original Characteristics and Pre¬ conceptions of Good, which were Na¬ tural, Uniform and Common to all Men; which all recognized in their various Purfuits; and that the Difference lay only in the applying them to Particu¬ lars ? This requires, faid I, to be illuftrated. As if, continued he, a Company of Travellers, in fome wide Forefl, were all intending for one City? I 2 but 116 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. but each by a Route peculiar to himfelf. *“-" Y The Roads indeed would be various, and many perhaps falfe ; but all who travelled, would have one End in view. It is evident, faid J, they would. So fares it then, added he, with Mankind in pur- fuit of Good. The Ways indeed are Ma?iy 9 but what they feek is One. For indance : Did you ever hear of any, who in purfuit of their Good, were for li ving the Life of a Bird, an Infedt, or a Fifh ? None. And why not ? It would be in confident, anfwered I, with their Nature. You fee then,, faid he, they all agree in this-that what they purfue, ought to be conjifient , and agreeable to their proper Nature. So ought it, faid I, undoubtedly. If fo, continued he, one Pre-conception is dis¬ covered, which is common to Good in gene¬ ral ——It is, that all Good is fuppofed Jome- thing agreeable to Nature. This in¬ deed, replied I, feems to be agreed on all hands. But A Dialogue. But again, faid he, - —Is there a Man Part I. ficarcely to be found of a Temper fo truly mortified, as to acquiefce in th olowefi, and fhorteft Neceffaries of Life ? Who aims not, if he be able, at fomething farther , fome- thing better ? I replied. Scarcely one. Do not Muhitudes purfue, faid he, infinite Objedts of Defire, acknowledged, every one of them, to he in no refpedt Neceffaries? -Exquifite Viands, deli¬ cious Wines,fplendid Apparel, curious Gar¬ dens; magnificent Apartmentsadorned with Pidfures and Sculpture ; Mufic and Poetry, and the whole Tribe of Elegant Arts ? It is evident, faid I. If it be, continued he, it fhould feem that they all con fide red the Chief ox Sovereign Good , not to be that, which conduces to bare Exifience or mere Being ; for to this the Neceffaries alone are adequate. I replied they were. But if not this, it mult be fomewhat conducive to that , which is fuperior to mere Being. It mull. And what, con¬ tinued he, can this be, but Well-Being ? I 3 Well- 118 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. Well-Being, under the various Shapes, in which differing Opinions paint it ? Or can you fugged any thing elfe ? I replied, I could not. Mark here, then, con¬ tinued he,another Pre-cvnceptiondm which they all agree-—the Sovereign Good is fomewhat conducive , not to mere Being, but to Well-Being. I replied, it had fo ap¬ peared. Again, continued he. What labour, what expence, t© procure thofe rarities, which our own poor country is unable to afford us ? How is the world ranfacked to its mmoft verges, and luxury and arts imported from every quarter ?-Nay more---How do we baffle Nature her- felf; invert her Order j feek the Vegetables of Spring in the rigours of Winter, and Winter’s Ice, during the heats of Sum¬ mer? I replied. We did. And what difappointment, what remorfe,when endeavours fail ? It is true. If this then be evident, faid he, it fhould feem, that whatever we defire as our Chief and Sove - A Dialogue. 119 Sovereign Good , is fomething which, nsfarPart I. aspoffible, we would accommodate to all Places } and Times. I anfwered, fo it appeared. See then, faid he, another of its Cha- raSteriftics , another Pre-conception . But farther fli 11 -What contefts for Wealth? What fcrambling for Property? What perils in the purfuit ; what follicitude in the maintenance ?—And why all this ? To what Pnrpofe , what End? —Or is not the reafon plain ? Is it not that Wealth may continually procure us, whatever we fancy Good; and make that perpetual , which would otherwife be tranjient ? I replied, it feemed fo. Is it not far¬ ther defired, as fupplying us from ourfelves; when, witliout it, we muft be beholden to the benevolence of others , and depend on their caprice for all that we enjoy ? Xt is true, faid I, this feems a reafon. Ag ain —--—Is not Powerof every degree as much contefted for, as Wealth? Are not magiftracies, honours, principalities, and I 4 empire. 120 Concerning HAPPINESS, Fart I. empire, the fubjedts of drife, and ever- v lading contention ? I replied. They were. And why, laid he, this P To obtain what End?--Is it not to help us, like wealth, to the PoJJ'eJJion of what we dejire? Is it not farther to afcertain, to fecure our enjoyments ; that when others would deprive us, we may be ftrong enough to refft them? I replied, it was. Or to invert the whole--Why are there, who feek recedes the mod didant and retired ? dy courts and power, and fubmit to Parcimony and Qbfcurity ? Why all this, but from the fame intention ? From an Opinion that frnall pod'effions, ufed moderately, are permanent -that larger poffedions raife envy, and are more frequently invaded -——that the Safety of Power and Dignity is more precarious, than that of Retreat; and that therefore they have chofen, what is mofl eligible upon the whole? It is not, laid I, improbable, that they adl by forne luch motive. Do A Dialogue. I 21 Do you not fee then, continued he, two Part I. or three more Pre-conceptions of the Sove- ’—— reign Goody which are fought for by all, as elTential to conftitute it ? And what, laid I, are thefe ? That it fhould not be tranfient , nor derived from the Will of otherSy nor in their Power to take away ; but be durable , felf-derivedy and (if I may ufe the Expreffion) indeprivable . I confefs, faid I, it appears fo. But we have already found it to be con¬ fide red, as fomething agreeable to our Nature ; conducive , not to mere Being, but to Well- Being ; and what we aim to have accommo¬ date to all Places and Times f We have. There may be other Chara^eriftics, faid he, but thefe I think fufficient. See then its Idea; behold it, as collected from the Original , Natural and UniverJ'al Pre¬ conceptions of all Mankind. The Sove¬ reign Good, they have taught us, ought to be fomething- Agreeable to our JMature; Conducive to Well-Being; Accom- 122 Concerning HAPPINESS, Parti. Accommodate to all Places and Times; Durable, Self-derived, and Indeprivable. Your account, faid I, appears juft. It matters, continued he, little, how they err in the Application -if they covet that as agreeable to Nature , which is in it- felf moft Contrary -if they would have that as Durable , which is in itfelf moft Dranfient -that as Independent, and their own, which is moft precarious and Servile. It is enough for us, if we know their Am --enough, if we can difcover, what it is they propofe- the Means and Method may be abfurd, as it happens. I an- fwered. Their Aim was fufftcient to prove what he had afterted. It is true, replied he, it is abundantly fufficient. And yet perhaps, even iho’ this were ever fo certain, it w 7 ould not be al¬ together foreign, were we to examine, how they adt; how they fucceed in ap¬ plying thefe Univerjals to Particular Sub¬ jects. A Dialogue, 323 jedls. Should they be found juft in the Part I. Application, we need look no farther-v—v«-» The true Sovereign Good would of courfe be Plain and Obvious and we fhould have po more to do, than to follow the beaten road. It is granted, replied I. But what if they err ? Time enough for that, laid he, when we are fatisfied that they do. We ought firfl to inform our- felves, whether they may not poffibly be in the right. I fubmitted, and begged him to proceed his own way. § 3. Will you then, faid he, in this difquiftion into Human Conduct, allow me this——That fuch, as is the Species of Life, which every one choofes ; fuch is his Idea of HappineJ's, fuch his Conception of the Sovereign Good? I feem, faid I, to comprehend You, but fhould be glad You would illuftrate. His Meaning, he anfwered, was no more than this-- If a Man prefer a Life of Induftry , it is be- caufe he has an Ideaoi Happinefsin Wealthy |f he prefers a Life of Gaiety , it is from a 2 like 124 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. like Idea concerning Pleafure . And the faid he, we have reafoned rightly, and our Conclufions may be de¬ pended on ; it fhould feem that the sup¬ posed Good, which the Political Life purfues , correfponds not , in any Injia?ice , to our Pre-conceptions £/ 7 /;.—• Bad enough, replied I, of all con- fcience. It fhould feem then, faid he, that not even the best Contemplative Life, however noble its Objedl, e was agreeable to our present Nature, or confifient 'with * Sat. 3. 1. 1. ver. 99. A Dialogue. *39 with our prefcnt Situation . I confefs, Part I. faid I, you appear to have proved fa. But if this be allowed true of the Befl, the moil; Excellent \ what (hall we fay to the Mockery of Monkery; the Farce of Friars; the ridiculous Mummery of being fequeftred in a Cloyjler ?■ This furely is too low a Thing, even to merit an Examina¬ tion. I have no Scruples here, faid I, you need not wade your Time. ♦ § §. If that, faid he, be your Opinion, let us look a little backward. For our memory’s fake it may be proper to reca¬ pitulate. I replied, it would be highly acceptable. Thus then, faid he—— \V e have examined the four grand Lives, which we find the Generality of Men em¬ brace ; the Lucrative , and the Political; the Pleafurable , and the Contemplative. And we have aimed at proving that- to fuch a Being as Man, withfuch a Body y fuch Affections, fuch Senfes, andfuch an In¬ tellect - placed in fuch a World, fubjeCt to fuch Incidents—mot one of thefe Lives is pro - 140 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. productive of that Good, which we find ail ' Men to recognize thro the fame un form Pr e-con ceptions; and which thro one or other of thefe Lives they all of them pwfue . § 9. You have juftly, Aid I, collected the Sum of your Inquiries. And happy, faid he, fhould I think it, were they to terminate here. I ailced him. Why ? Becaufe, replied he, to in- finuate fird, that all Mankind are in the wrong; and then to attempt afterwards, to fliew one's felf only to be right; is a Degree of Arrogance, which I would not willingly be guilty of. I ventured here to fay, That I thought he need not be fo diffident-that a Subjedt, where one's own Interefi appeared concerned fo nearly y would well juftify every Scruple , and even the fevered; Inquiry. There, faid he, you fay fomething—there you encourage me indeed. For what-Are' we not cautioned againft Counterfeits , even in Mat¬ ters of meaned Value ? If a Piece of Metal be tendered us, which feems doubtful, do we A Dialogue. 141 we not hefitate ? Do we not try it by the Part T. Tefi, before we take it for Current —-And is not this deemed Prudence? Are we not cenfured, if we adt otherwife ?-How much more then does it behove us not to be impofed on here? To be diffident and fcrupuloufly exact, wher tlmpofiure, if once admitted, may tempt us to far worfe Bar¬ gain, than ever Glaucus made with Diomed? What Bargain, faid I, do you mean ? The Exchange, replied he, not of Gold for Brafs, but of Good for Evil, and of Happinefs for Mifery -But enough of this, fince you have encouraged me to proceed—We are feekingthat Good, which we think others have not found. Permit me thus to purfue my SubjedE § 10. Every Being on this our Ter - refirial Dwelling, exifls encompafied with infinite Objedls \ exifls among Animals tame, and Animals wild ; among Plants and Ve¬ getables of a thoufand difi'erent Qualities, among Heats and Colds, Tempefls and Calms, the Friendfhips and Difcords of hetero - 142 Concerning HAPPINESS* Part I. heterogeneous Elements- -What fay you? Are all thefe Things exactly the fame to it; or do they differ, think you in their Ef¬ fects and Confequences They differ, faid I, widely. Some perhaps then, faid he, are Apt, Congruous , and Agreeable to its Natural State. I replied, they were. Others are In-apt, Incongruous * and Eifagreeable. They are. And others again are Indifferent . They are* It Should feem then, faid he, if this be allowed, that to every individual Beings without the leafl Exception, the whole Mafs of things External, from the great eft to the meanef, food in the Relations of either Agreeable, Eifagreeable, or Indifferent . I replied, fo it appeared; But tho’ this, continued he, be true in the general, it is yet as certain when we defcend to Particulars, that what is Agree¬ able to one Species is Difagreeable to another; and not only fo, but perhaps Indifferent to a A Dialog us. Hi a third . Inftances of this kind, he faid 5 Part L were too obvious to be mentioned. v-« I replied, it was evident. Whence ♦hen, faid he, this Diverfty ? -It cannot arife from the Externals- --for Water is equally PVater, whether to a Man , or to a Fijh j whether, operating on the one, it fuffocate , or on the other, it give Life and Vigour. I replied, it was. So is Fire, faid he, the fame Fire , however various in its Confequences j whether it harden or f 'often , give Pleafure or Pain . I replied, it was. But if this D/~ verfty , continued he, be not derived from the Externals , whence can it be elfe?«-* Or can it poffibly be derived otherwife than from the peculiar Confutation , from the Natural State of every Species itfelf ? I replied, it appeared probable. Thus then, faid he, is it that Every particular Species is, itfelf to itfelf, the Meafure of all things in the Univerfe—that it can no f Lvay be ad- jufled , but by recurring with Accuracy to the Natural State of the Species , and to thofe feveral Relations y which fuch a State of courfe creates . I anfwered, he ar¬ gued juftly. § ii. To proceed then, Paid he—Tho’ it be true, that every Species has a Natural State , as we have aflerted ; it is not true, that every Species has a Senfe or Feeling of it* This Feeling or Senfe is a Natural Eminence or Prerogative y denied the Vege¬ table and Inanimate , and imparted only to the Animal I anfwered, it was* And think you, continued he, that as many as have this Senfe or Peeling of a Natural State, are alienated from it, or in¬ different to it ? Or is it not more probable, that they are well-affedted to it ? Experience, faid I, teaches us, how well they are all afteded. You are right, replied he. For what would be more abfurd? A Dialogue. M 5 abfurd, than to be indifferent to their own Part .1 Welfare; or to be alienated from it, as tho’ it was Foreign and Unnatural f I replied. Nothing could be more. But, con¬ tinued he, if they are well-affedled to this their proper Natural State> it fhould feem too they muft be well-affecled to all thofe Externals , which appear^/, congruous , and agreeable to it. I anfwered, They muft. And if fo, then ill-affeSled or averfe to fuch, as appear the contrary. They mufti And to fuch as appear indifferent , indifferent . They muft* But if this, faid he, be allowed, it will follow, that in confequence of thefe Appearances , they will think fome Exter¬ nals worthy of Purfuit fome worthy of Avoidance and fome worthy of neither . It was probable, faid I, they fhould. Hence then, faid he, another DiviJio?i of Things external-, that is, into Purfuable , Avoidable, and Indifferent —-a Divifion only belonging to Beings Senjitive and Animate , becaufe all, below thefe , can neither avoid L cor Concerning H A P P IN E S S, I. nor purfue, I replied. They could ’ 'not. If, then, faid he, Man be allowed in the Number of thefe Senftive Beings, this Divifion will affedt Man- -or to explain more fully, the whole Mafs of Things exter¬ nal will, according to this Divifion, exifi to the Human Species in the Relations of Fur- fuakle, Avoidable, and Indifferent. I re¬ plied, They would. Should we therefore defire, faid he, to know what thefe things truly are, we inufi: firfi; be informed, what is Man’s truly Natural Constitution. For thus, you may remember, it was fettled not long fi-nce-—that every Species was its own Standard, and that when the Value of Things was doubtful, the Species was to be fudied ; the Relations to be deduced, which were confequent to it ; and in this manner the Value of Things to be adjufied and afcer- taimed. I replied. We had fo agreed it. I fear then, faid he, we are en- gaged 4 . » . . « . . A Dialogue. 147 gaged in a more arduous Undertaking, aPart I. Tafk of more difficulty, than we were firft aware of—But Fortuna Fortes —we mutt endeavour to acquit ourfelves as well as we are able. § 12. That Man therefore has a Body, of a Figure and internal Strublure peculiar to itfelf; capable of certain De¬ grees of Strength, Agility, Beauty, and the like ; this I believe is evident, and hardly wants a Proof. I anfwered, I was willing to own it. That he is capable too of Fleafure and Fain ; is po/Telled of Senfes , Affedlions , Appetites , and Averfions; this alfo feems evident* and can fcarcely be denied. I replied, it was admitted. We may venture then to range Him in the Tribe of Animal Beings. I replied. We might. And think you, faid he, without Society, you^or any Man could have been born ? Mod: certainly not. Without Society , when born, could you have been L 2 brought 148 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. brought to Maturity ? Mod certainly w "“ v J not. Had your Parents then had no Social Affections towards you in that peri- vid - lous State, that tedious Infancy, (fo much J 1 r Tibl ' 7 ^ Protrept. longer than the longejl of other Animals) you muft have inevitably perifhed thro' Want and Inability. I mufb. You perceive then that to Society you, and every Man are indebted, not only for the Beginning of Being , but for the Continu¬ ance . We are. Suppose then we pafs from this Birth and Infancy of Man, to his Maturity and Perfection—Is there any Age, think you, fo felf-fufficient , as that in it he feels no Wants ? What Wants, anfwered I, do you mean ? In the firfl: and prin¬ cipal place, faid he, that of Food-, then perhaps that of Raiment; and after this, a Dwelling , or Defence again!! the Wea¬ ther. Thefe Wants, replied I, are furely Natural at all Ages. And is it not agreeable to Nature, faid he, that they fhould at all Ages be fupplied? Af- furedly. A D I A L O G U E. T49 furedly. And is it not more agreeable Part I. to have them well fupplied, than ill ? — It is. And mojl agreeable, to have them bejl fupplied ? Certainly. If there be then any one State, better than all others , for the fupplying thefe Wants; this State, of all others , muf needs be mojl Natural. It mud. And what Supply, faid he, of thefe Wants, (hall we efteem the meanefl , which we can concive ?—Would it not be fome- thing like this ? Had we nothing beyond Acorns for Food $ beyond a rude Skin, for Raiment ; or beyond a Cavern, or hollow Tree, to provide us with a Dwelling ? Indeed, faid I, this would be bad enough. And do you not imagine, as far as this , we might each fupply our [elves , tho’ we lived in Woods, mere folitary Savages? I replied, I thought we might. Suppose then, continued he, that our Supplies were to be mended —for inllance, that we were to exchange Acorns for L 2 Bread-— * 5 ° Concerning HAPPINESS, part I. Bread—-Would our Savage Character be fufficient here $ Mud we not be a little better difciplined ; Would not fome Art be requifite ?—The Baker s, for example. It would. And previoujly to the Baker’s, that of the Miller ? It would. And previoujly to the Miller’s that of the Hufbandman ? It would. Three Arts then appear neceffary* even upon the lowejl Edimation. It is admitted. But a Quedion farther, faid he—Can the Hufbandman work, think you, with¬ out his Tools? Mud he not have his Plough, his Harrow; his Reap-hook, and the like ? He mud. And mud not thofe other Artids too be furnifhed in the fame manner ? They mud. And whence mud they be furnifhed ? From their oven Arts ?-—Or are not the making Tools, and the ufmg them, two different Occupations ? I believe, faid I, they are. You may be convinced, continued he, by fmall Recollection. Does Agricul¬ ture A Dialogue. ture make its own Plough, its own Harrow ? p ar t J o Or does it not apply to other Arts , for all ^—v*""- 4 NecefTaries of this kind ? It does. Again-Does the Baker build his own Oven ; or the Miller frame his own Mill? It appears, laid I, no part of their Bufinefs. What a Uribe of Mechanics then, faid he, are advancing upon us?—Smiths,Car¬ penters, Mafons, Mill-wrights--and all thefe to provide the Jingle Necejfary of Bread. Not lefs than feven or eight Arts, we find, are wanting at the fewefl. It appears fo. And what if to the pro¬ viding a comfortable Cottage , and Raiment fuitable to an indujlrious Hind, we allow a dozen Arts more? It would he eafy, by the fame Reafoning, to prove the Number double. I admit the Number, faid I, mentioned. If fo, continued he, it fhould feem, that towards a tolerable Supply of the three Pri¬ mary and Common NeceJJ'aries, Food, Raiment, L 4 and * 5 2 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. and a Dwelling , lefs than twenty Arts were, on the lowejl Account, requifite . It appears To. And is one Man equal, think you, to the Exercife of thefe twenty Arts F If he had even Genius , which we can fcarce ima¬ gine, it is peffible he fhould find Lefure ? I replied, I thought not. If fo, then ai folk ary ,unfocial State can neverfupply tolerably the common Necejfaries of Life, It cannot. But what if we pafs from the Necejfa¬ ries of Life, to the Elegancies ? To Mufic, Sculpture, Painting, and Ppetry?—What if we pafs from all Arts whether Necefary or Elegant , to the large and various Tribe of Sciences? To Logic, Mathematics, Agro¬ nomy, Phyfics ?-—Can one Man, imagine you, mailer all this ? Abfurd, faid I, im- poffible. And yet in this Cycle of Sciences and Arts , feem included all the Comforts , as well as Ornaments of Life ; included all conducive, either to Being, or to Well-Being . It A Dialogue. M3 It mu ft be confefted, faid I, it has Part I. the Appearance. v Wh at then, faid he, muft be done ? In what manner muft we be fupplied ? I anfwered, I knew not, unlefs we made a Dijlrihution —Let one exercife om Art ? and another a different -Let this Man ftudy fuch a Science; and that Man, another—'-A Thus the whole Cycle (as you call it) may be carried eafily into Perfec¬ tion. It is true, faid he, it may; and every Individual, as far as his own Art or Science , might be fupplied completely , and as well as he could wifti. But what avails a Supply in a Jingle Inftance? What in this cafe are to become of all his numerous other Wants ? You conceive, replied I, what I would have faid, but partially. My Meaning was, that Artifl trade with Ar- tijl ; each fupply where he is deficient, by exchanging where he abounds ; fo that a .Portion of every thing may be difperfed throughout all . You intend then a State, faid 154 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. faid he, of Commutation and 'Traffic. replied, I did. If To, continued he, I fee a new Face of things. The Savages, with their Skins and their Caverns, difappear. In their place I behold a fair Community riling. No longer Woods, no longer Solitude, but all is Social, Civil, and Cultivated —And can we doubt any farther, whether Society be Natural? Is not this evidently the State, which can befi fupply the Primary Wants? It has ap¬ peared fo. And did we not agree fome time lince, that this State , whatever we found it, would be certainly of all others the moft agreeable to our Nature ? We did. And have we not added, lince this, to the Weight of our Argument, by pafling from the Neceffiary Arts to the Ele¬ gant ; from the Elegant to the Sciences ? We have. The more, faid he, we conlider, the more fhall we be con^ vinced, that All thefe , the noblell Honours and Ornaments of the Human Mind, with¬ out that Leifure, that Experience, that Emu - 4 la t ion. A Dialogue. I5S lation, that Reward, which the Social State Part I. alone we know is able to provide them, v “~ v ~"^ could never have found Exigence, or been in the lead: recognized. Indeed, faid I, I believe not. Let it not be forgot then, faid he, in favour of Society , that to it we owe, not only the Beginning and Continuation , but the Well-Being , and (if I may ufe the Ex- predion) the very Elegance and Rationality of our Exiflence . I anfwered, It ap¬ peared evident. And what then, continued he?--If Society be thus agreeable to our Nature , is there nothing, think you, within us, to ex~ cite and lead us to it ? No Impulfe , no Pre¬ paration of Faculties l It would be llrange, anfwered I, if there fhould not. It would be a lingular Exceptions faid he, with refpedt to all other herding Species—-Let us however examine—Pity, Benevolence, Friendlhip, Love; the general Diflike of Solitude, and Delire of Com- pany; 156 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. pany ; are they Natural AJfeSlions, which come of themfehes; or are they taught us by Art , like Mufic and Arithmetic ? I fhould think, replied I, they were Na¬ tural, becaufe in every Degree of Men fome Traces of them may be difcovered. And are not the Powers and Capacities of Speech , faid he, the fame ? Are not all Men naturally formed, to exprefs their Sen¬ timents by fome kind of Language ? I replied. They were. If then, faid he, thefe feveral Powers, and Lfpofitions are Natural , fo fhould feem too their Exercife. Admit it. And if their Exercife , then fo too that State , where alone they can be exercifed . Ad¬ mit it. And what is this State , but the Social? Or where elfe is it poflible to con- verfe, or ufe our Speech ; to exhibit Actions of Pity, Benevolence, priendfbip or Love; to relieve our Averjion to Solitude , or gratify our Defire of being with others ? I re¬ plied, It could be no where elfe. You A Dialogue. 157 You fee then, continued he a Prepa - p ar t j e ration of Faculties is not wanting. We are "v— fitted with Powers and Difpofitions, which have only Relation to Society ; and which, out of Society, can no where efe be exercifed '. I replied, it was evident. You have feen too the fuperior Advantages of the So- cial State , above all others. I have. Let this then be remembered, faid he, throughout all our future Reafonings, re¬ membered as a firft Principle in our Ideas of Humanity , that Man by Nature is truly a Social Animal. I promifed it fhould. § 13. Let us now, faid he, examine, what farther we can learn concerningHim. As Social indeed. He is diftinguifhed from the Solitary and Savage Species ; but in no degree from the reft, of a milder and more friendly Nature. It is true, replied I, He is not. Does He then differ no more from thefe 158 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. thefe feveral Social Species, than they, eacri of them, differ from one another ? Mu ft we range them all , and Man among the rejh * under the fame common and general Genus? I fee no Foundation, faid I* fo£ making a Diftindtion. Perhaps, faid he, there may be none % and it is poflible too there may. Conlider a little-—Do you not obferve in all other Species, a Similarity among Individuals f a furprizing Likenefs y which runs thro each Particular ? In one Species they are alj Bold; in another, all Timorous j in one all Ravenous ; in another, all Gentle. In the Bird-kind only, what a Uniformity of Voice, in each Species, as to their notes; of Ar - chite&ure, as to building their Nefts j of Food, both for themfelves, and for fup- porting their Young ? It is true, faid I. And do you obferve, continued he, the fame Similarity among Men? Are thefe all as Unforniy as to their Sentiments and Actions ? I replied, by no means. One A Dialogue. *50 One Question more, laid he, as to the Part I. Character of Brutes, if I may be allowed theExpreffion—Ar ethefe, think you, what we behold them , by Nature or otherwife Explain, faid I, your Queffion, for I do not well conceive you. I mean, replied he, is it by Nature that the Swallow builds her Neff, and performs all the Offices of her Kind : Or is fhe taught by Art, by Difcipline , or Cujlom She a£ts, re¬ plied I, by pure Nature undoubtedly. And is not the fame true, faid he, of every other Bird and Beall; in the Univerfe? It is. No wonder then, continued he, as they have fo wife a Governefs, that a uniform Rule of Action is provided for each Species. For what can be more worthy the Wifdom of Nature , than ever to the fame Subfances to give the fame Law ? It ap¬ pears, faid I, reafonable. But what, continued he, fhall we fay as to Man ? Is He too actuated by Nature purely I anfwered. Why not ? If 16t> Concerning H A P P I N E S S, Part I. If Pie be, replied he, it is ftrange in Nature t | iat w j t ]-j re fped: to Man alone , fhe fliould follow io different a Condudt. The Particu¬ lars in other Species, we agree, fhe renders Uniform ; b u t i n Our s, every Particular fee m s a fort of Model by himfetf. If Nature Paid I, do not actuate us, what can we fup- pofe elfe ? MtLocalCufloms, Paid he Na¬ ture ? Are the Polities and Religions of par¬ ticular Nations, Nature? Are the Examples which are fet before us; the Preceptors who inflnidt us ; the Company and Friends, with whom we converfe, all Nature ? No furely. Paid I. And yet, faid he, it is evident that by thefe, and a thoufand incidental Circumftances, equally foreign to Nature, our Actions, and Manners, and Characters are adjufled. Who then can imagine, we are actuated by Nature ofily? I confefs, faid I, it appears con¬ trary. You fee then, faid he, one remarkable Dfindlion between Man and Brutes in ge¬ neral—In the Brute, Nature does all; in Man, A Dialogue. 161 Man , but Part only . It is evident, Part I. faid I. But farther, continued he——Let us confider the Powers or Faculties, poffeffed by each—Suppofe I was willing to give a Brute the fame Infraction^ which we give a Man. A Parrot perhaps, or Ape, might arrive to fome fmall Degree of Mimicry ; but do you think, upon the whole, they would be much profited or altered ? I replied, I thought not. And do you perceive the fame % faid he, with refpedt to Man ? Or does not Experience fhew us the very reverfe ? Is not Education capable of moulding us into any thing-of making us greatly Goody or greatly Bad ; greatly Wife , or greatly Abfurd? The Fadt, faid I, is indifputable. Mark then, faid he, the Difference between Human Powers and Brutal— -The Leading Principle of Brutes appears to tend in each Species to onefugle Purpofe— to this, in general, it uniformly arrives, and M here. 162 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. here, in general, it as uniformly flops — it needs no Precepts or Difcipline to inftrud: it; nor will it eafily be changed , or admit a different Direction. On the contrary, the Leading Principle of Man is capable of in¬ finite Directions —is convertible to all forts of Purpofes —equal to allforts of Subjeffs — neglected, remains ignorant, and void of every Perfedion-cultivated, becomes adorned with Sciences and Arts —can raife us to excel, not only Brutes y but our own Kind —with refpedto om other Powers and Faculties, can inftrud us how to ufe them, as well as thofe of the various Natures, which we fee exifting around us. In a word, to oppofe the two Principles to each other—The Leading Principle of Man, is Multiform, Originally UninflruBed, Pliant and Docil —the Leading Principle of Brutes is Uniform, Originally Inftrucled; but, in mod Inftances afterward, Inflexible and Indocil -Or does not Experience plainly fiaew, and confirm the Truth of what we afTert? I made anfwer, it did. You A Dialogue. 163 You allow then, faid he, the Human Part I. Principle, and the Brutal, to be things of different Idea, Undoubtedly. Do they not each then deferve a different Ap¬ pellation ? I fhould think fo. Sup- pofe therefore we call the Human Principle Reason; and the Brutal, Instinct: would you objedt to the Terms ? I re¬ plied, I fhould not. If not, continued he, then Reafon being peculiar to Man , of all the Animals inhabiting this Earth, may we not affirm of Him, by way of Diftinc- tion, that He is a Rational Animal? I replied. We might juftly. Let this too then be remembered, faid he, in the Courfe of our Inquiry, that Man is by Nature a Rational Animal. I promifed it fhould. § 14. In confequence of this, faid he, as often as there is Occafton, I fhall appeal as well to Reafon , as to Nature , for a Standard. What, faid I,doyoumean by Nature? M 2 Its 164 Concerning HAPPINESS, p art j Its Meanings, replied he, are many -v -—t anc 3 various. As it dands at prefect op- pofed, it may be enough perhaps to fay, that Nature is that, which is the Caufe of every thingy except thofe 'Things alone, which are the immediate Effects of Reafon. In other words, whatever is not Reafon, or the EffeSi of Reafon, we would condder as Nature , or the Effedi of Nature. I an- fwered, as he fo diftinguifhed them, I thought he might juftly appeal to either. And yet, continued he, there is a re¬ markable Difference between the Standard of Reafon , and that of Nature ; a Diffe¬ rence, which at no time we ought to for¬ get. What Difference, faid I, do you mean ? It is this, anfwered he 1 -In Nature , the Standard is fought from among the Many, in Reafon, the Standard is fought from among the Few. You mud ex¬ plain, faid I, your Meaning, for I mud: confefs you feem obfcure. Thus A Dialogue. Th us then, faid he-Suppofe, as an Part I. Anatomift, you were feeking the Structure of fome internal Part——To difcover this, would you not infpeCt a Number of Indi¬ viduals ? 1 fhould. And would you not inform yourfelf, what had been dis¬ covered by others ? I fhould. And fuppofe, after all, you fhould find a Multi¬ tude of Inftances for one Structure, and a few fngular for a different : By which would you be governed ? By the Mul¬ titude, faid I, undoubtedly. Thus then continued he, in Nature the Standard, you fee, exifls among the many. I replied, it had fo appeared. And what, faid he, were we to feek the Perfection of Sculpture, or ofPaint- ing ?—Where fhould we inquire then ?—• Among the numerous common Artifls, or among the few and celebrated? Among the Few, faid I. What if we were to feek the Perfection of Poetry, or Oratory— Where then ? Among the Few ftill. M 3 What 166 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. What if we were to feek the Per- ^ y 'fe&ion of true Argument, or a found Logic--Where then ? Still among the Few. And is not true Argument, or a found Logic, one of Reafon s greated Perfections? It is. You fee then, continued he, whence the Standard of Reafon is to be fought——It is from among the Few , as we faid before, in contradi- dindtion to the Standard of Nature. I confefs, faid I, it appears fo. And happy, faid he, for us, that Provi¬ dence has fo ordered it—-happy for us, that what is Rational, depends not on the Multi¬ tude ; or is to be tried by fo pitiful a Ted, as the bare counting of Nofes. It is happy. Lid I, indeed—But whence pray the Dif¬ ference? Why are the Many to determine in Nature , and the Few only, in Reafon ? To difcufs this at large, faid he, would require fome time. It might in- fenfibly perhaps draw us from our prefent Inquiry. 1 will endeavour to give you the Reafon, in as few words as poOible which fhould they chance to be obfcure, be not too A Dialogue. too folicitous for an Explanation. I begged him to proceed his own way. The Cafe, faid he, appears to be this— In Naturalist osksandNatural Operations, we hold but one Efficient Caufe , and that confummately wife. This Caufe in every Species recognizing what is beft, and work¬ ing ever uniformly according to this Idea of Perfection, the Productions and Energies , in every Species where it aCU, are for the mofl; part fimiliar and exactly correfpondent . If an Exception ever happen, it is from fome hidden higher Motive , which tran- fcends our Comprehenfion, and which is feen Jo rarely , as not to injure the general Pule , or render it doubtful and precarious. On the contrary, in the Productions and Energies of Reafon, there is not one Caufe but infinite —-as many indeed, as there are Agents of the Human Kind. Hence Truth being but one, and Error being infinite , and Agents infinite alio : what wonder they fhould oftener mifs, than hit the Mark ?—~ that Multitudes fhould fail, where one alone M 4 fuc- 168 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. fucceeds, and Truth be only the Poffieffion 0 f th e chofen , fortunate Few ? You feem to have explained the Difficulty, laid I, with fufficient Perfpicuity. Let us then go back, faid he, and re¬ coiled; ourfelves; that we may not forget^ what it is we are feeking. I replied. Mod; willingly. We have been feek¬ ing, continued he, the Sovereign Good. In confequence of this inquiry, wehavedif- covered—that all Filings whatever exifl to the Human Species in the Relations of either Purfiable , Avoidable , or Indifferent . To determine thefe Relations with Accuracy we have been fcrutinizing the Human Nature ; and that, upon this known Maxim, that every Species was its own proper Standard ; and that where the Value of Filings was dubious , there the Species was to be fludied , and the Relations to be deduced , which naturally flow from it. The Refult of this Scrutiny has been—that we have fir ft agreed Man to be a Social Animal; and fince, to be a Rational. So that if we can tf A Dialogue. can be content with a defcriptive, concife p a rt J, Sketch of Human Nature, it will amount— to this—that Man is a Social Ra¬ tional Animal. I anfwered, it had appeared fo, § 15. If then, faid he, we purfue our Difquifitions, agreeably to this Idea of Hu¬ man Nature, it will follow that all Things will be Purfuable, Avoidable, and Indiffe¬ rent to Man , as they refpedt the Being and Welfare of fuch a Social, Rational Animal . I replied. They mufl. Nothing therefore in the fird: place, faid he, can be Purfuable, which is de- Jlrudfive of Society. It cannot. Adts therefore of Fraud and Rapine, and all acquired by them, whether Wealth, Power, Pleafure, or any thing, are evi¬ dently from their very Character not fit to be purfued. They are not. But it is impoffible not to purfue many fuch things, unlefs we are furnifhed with fome Habit or Hifpoftion of Mind, by which 170 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. which we are induced to render to all Men "v—-* their own , and to regard the Welfare, and Intereft of Society. It is impofilble. But the Habit or Difpojition of ren¬ dering to all their own , and of regarding the Welfare and Intereft of Society, is Justice. It is. We may there¬ fore fairly conclude, that Nothing is natu¬ rally Purjuable, but what is either correfpon- dent tojujlice , or at leaf not contrary . I confefs, faid I, fo it appears. But farther, faid he-—It is poflible we may have the beft Difpofition to Society $ the moft upright Intentions; and yet thro* Want of Ability to difcern , and know the Nature of Particulars, we may purfue many things inconfiftent, as well with our Private Intereft, as the Public. We may even purfue what is Right, and yet purfue it in fuch a manner, as to find our Endea¬ vours fruitlefs , and our Purpofes to fail. I anfwered, it was poffible. But this would ill befit the Character of a Rational Animal. It would. It is 6 . necef- A Dialogue. 171 neceflary therefore, we fhould be furnifhed p art j with feme Habit or Faculty , inftrudling us 1—y——» how to difeern the real Difference of all Particulars , and fuggefting the proper Means, by which we may either avoid or obtain them. It is. And what is this, think you, but Prudence ? I believe, faid I, it can be no other. If it be, laid he, then it is evident from this Reafoning, that Nothing can be purfu- able which is not correfpondent to Prudence . I replied, He had fhewn it could not. But farther ftill, faid he—It is poflible we may neither want Prudence , nor JuJlice to diredt us ; and yet the Impulfes of Appe¬ tite, the lmpetuofties of Refentment , the Charms and Allurements of a thoufand flat¬ tering Objects, may tempt us, in fpite of ourfelves, to purfue what is both Impru¬ dent, and JJnjufl. They may. But if fo, it is neceflary, would we purfue as becomes our Character, that we fhould be furnifhed with fome Habit, which may moderate our Exceffes which may temper our 172 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. our Addons to the Standard of a Social State, and to the Intereft and Welfare, not of a Part, but of the Whole Man. Nothing, faid I, more neceffary. And what, faid he, can we call this Habit , but the Habit of Temperance ? You name it, faid I, rightly. If you think fo, replied he, then Nothing can be Pur - fuable, which is not cither correfpondent to Temperance, or at Jeajl not contrary . I replied, fo it feemed. Once more, continued he, and we have done— 1 1 i s poffi ble that not only Refentment and Appetite, not only the Charms and Al¬ lurements of external Objeds, but the Ter¬ rors too, and Dread of them may marr the Reciitude of our Purpofes. It is poffi ble. Tyranny and Superftition may af- fail us on one hand; the Apprehenhons of Ridicule, and a Falfe Shame on the other—• Inexpedient,to withfland thefe, wefhould be armed with fome Habit, or our wifeft, bed Purfuits may elfe at all times be de¬ feated. They may. And what is that A Dialogue. *73 that generous, manlike and noble Habit, Part I. which fets us at all times above Fear and Danger; what is it but Fortitude ; I replied, it was no other. If fo then, continued he, befides our former Conclulions, Nothing farther can be pur- fuable , as our Inquiries now have fhewn. us, which is not either correfpondent to For. titude , or at leaf not contrary. I admit, faid I, it can not. Observe then, faid he, the Sum, the Amount of our whole Reafoning—— No- thing is truly Furfuable to fuch an Animal as Man, except what is correfpondent, or at leaf not contrary , to Justice, Prudence, Temperance and Fortitude. I al¬ low, faid I, it appears fo. But if no¬ thing Furfuable, then nothing Avoidable or Indifferent, but what is tried and eflimated after the fame manner. For Contraries are ever recognized thro the fame Habit , one with another. The fame Logic judges of Truth and FaUhood ; the fame Mulical Art, of Concord and Difcord. So the fame 4 Mental Concerning HAPPINESS, Mental Habitudes, of Things Avoidable and Purfuable . I replied, it appeared pro- hable. To how unexpeded a Conclufion then, faid he, have our Inquiries infenfibly led vs ?-In tracing the Source of Human Action, we have eftablifhed it to be thofe Four Grand Virtues, which are efteemed, for their Importance, the very Hinges of all Morality. We have. But if fo, it fhould follow, that a Life^ whofe Purfuings and Avoidings are go¬ verned by thefe Virtues, is that True and Rational Life , which we have fo long been leeking; that Life, where the Value of all things is jujlly meafured by thofe Rela¬ tions, ‘which they bear to the Natural Frame and real Confitution of Mankind —in fewer Words, a Life of Virtue appears to be the Life according to Na¬ ture. It appears fo. 174 Part I. But A Dialogue* But in fiich a Life every Purfuit, every Part I. Avoiding , (to include all) every Aciion will of courle admit of being rationally jujlijied . It will. But That, which being Done, admits of a Rational fufiifcation, is the Effence or genuine Character of an Office , or Moral Duty. For thus long ago it has been defined by the beft * Au¬ thorities. Admit it. If fo, then a Life according to Virtue, is a Life according to Moral Of¬ fices or Duties. It appears fo. But we have already agreed it, to be a Lije according to Nature. We have. Obferve then: A Life ac¬ cording to Virtue, according to Moral Offices, and according to Nature, mean all the same Thing, tho’ varied in the Expreffion. Your Remark, Laid I, feems juft. § 16 . We need never therefore, re¬ plied he, be at a lofs how to chufe, tho" the * By Tally in his Offices, and by other Authors of Antiquity. 176 Concerning .HAPPINESS, Part I. the Objects of Choice be ever fo infinite and diverfified. As far as nothing is in - confident with fuch a Life and fuch a Cha- racier, we may juftly fet Existence before Death ; prefer Health to Sicknefs ; Inte¬ grity of the Limbs, to being maimed and debilitated ; Pleafure to Pain ; Wealth to Poverty j Fame to Dishonour; Free Go¬ vernment to Slavery ; Power and Magi¬ stracy, to Subjection and a private State— Univerfally, whatevertends eitherto Being, or to Well-Being, we may be justified, when we prefer to whatever appears the con¬ trary. And when our Several Energies, exerted according to the Virtues juft men¬ tioned, have put us in PofTeffion of all that we require : when we enjoy ,fubjoined to a right and honeft Mind, both Health of Body, and Competence of Externals : what can there be wanting to complete our Happinefs; to render our State perfectly confonant to Nature ; or to give us a more Sovereign Good, than that which we now enjoy ? Nothing, replied I, that I can at prefent think of. There A D 1 A L O G It E< IJJ 4 There would be nothing indeed, faidPart I. be, were our Energies never to fail ; were all our Endeavours to be ever crowned with due Sacce/s. But fuppofe the contrary— Suppole the worjl Succefs to the mojl up¬ right ConduB ; to the wiled Reditude of Energies and Addons. It is pollible, nay Experience teaches us it is too often fad, that not only the Purfuers of what is con¬ trary to Nature , but that thofe who purfue nothing but what is fir icily congruous to it* may mifs of their Aims , and be frujtrated in their Endeavours. Inquihtors and Monks may deleft them for their Virtue, and purfue them with all the Engines of Malice and Inhumanity. Without thefe. Pelts may afflid their Bodies ; Inunda¬ tions o’erwhelm their Property; or what is wofie than Inundations, either Ty¬ rants, Pirates, Heroes* or Banditti. They may fee their Country fall, and with it their braved: Countrymen j themfelves pillaged, and reduced to Extremities, or N perilhing Concerning HAPPINESS, I. perishing with the reft in the general ^ MaiTacre. ~— * cadit & Ripheus , juflijjimus unus Quifuit in Teucris, & JervantiJJimus reqni. It mu ft be owned, laid I, this has too often been the Cafe. Or grant, continued he, that thefe greater Events never happen—— —that the Part allotted us, be not in the Tragedy of Life, but in the Comedy. Even the Comic Dijlrejfes are abundantly irkfome-- Domeftic Jars, the ill Offices of Neigh¬ bours——Sufpicions, Jealouftes, Schemes defeated——-The Folly of Fools ; the Knavery of Knaves; from which, as Mem¬ bers of Society, it is impoffible to detach ourfelves. Where * JEneid. 1 . 2. ver. 426. . .. .. i Dialogue, 179 Where then fhall we turn, or what p ar t y. have we to imagine? We have at length placed Happiness, after much Inquiry, in attain! n a the primary and juft Rcquifites of our Nature, by a Conductfait able to Virtue and Moral Office, But as to correfponding with our Pre-conceptions (which we have made the Tell) does this Syftem correfpond better, than thofe others, which we have rejeded ? Has it not appeared from various Fads, too obvious to be difputed, 'that in many Times and Places it may be abfolutely unattainable ? That in many, where it ex ids, it may in a moment be cancelled, and put irretrievably out of our Power , by Events not to be rejifted? If this be certain, and I fear it cannot be queftioned, our fpecious long Inquiry, however accurate we may believe it, has not been able to Blew us a Good, of that Character which we require 3 a Good Durable , Indepriv - able, and Accommodate to every Circum- ftance - Far from it—Our Speculations N 2 * (I 180 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part I. (I think) rather lead us to that low Opinion ‘■■"—v"—■* of Happinefs, which you may remember you * expreffed, when we fir ft began the fubjedt. They rather help to prove to us, that inftead of a Sovereign Good, it is the more probable fentiment, there is no fuch Good at all. I fhould indeed, faid I, fear fo. For where, continued he, lies the difference, whether we purfue what is congruous to Nature, or not con¬ gruous ; if the Acquifition of one be as dif¬ ficult , as of the other , and the Pofefiion of both equally doubtful and precarious ? If Ceefar fall, in attempting his Country’s Ruin; and Brutus fare no better, who only fought in its Defence ? It muft be owned, faid I, thefe are melancholy Truths, and the Inflances, which you alledge, too w r ell confirm them. We were in the midft of thefe ferious Thoughts, defcanting upon the Hardships and * See p- in. A Dialogue. 18 i and Miferies of Life, when by an Inci-PartI, dent, not worth relating, our Speculations were interrupted. Nothing at the time, I thought, could have happened more un¬ luckily--our Quettion perplexed-its IxTue uncertain—-and myfelf impatient to know the Event. Neceffity however was not to be refitted, and thus for the prefent our Inquiries were pottponed. N 3 C O N- . v . " . * Concerning HAPPINESS, A DIALOGUE. PART the Second. B RUTUS perijhed untimely , and p ar t II. Casfar did no more —Thefe Words I was repeating the next Day to myfelf, when my Friend appeared, and chearfully bade me Good-Morrow. I could not return his Compliment with an equal Gaiety, being intent, fomewhat more than ufual, on what had paffed the day before. Seeing this, he propofed a Walk into the Fields. The Face of Nature, Paid he, will perhaps difpel thefe Glooms. No AfMance, on my part, fhail be wanting, N 4 you Concerning FI A P P I N E S S, . you may be allured. I accepted his Pro- pofal ; the Walk began ; and our former Cpnverfation infenfibly renewed. Bruttjs, faid be, perifhed untimely , and Cas far did no more .——It was thus, as I re¬ member, not long fince you were expref- fmg yourfelf. And yet fuppofe their For¬ tunes to have been exactly parallel - - Which would you have preferred? Would you have been Cas far or Brutus l Brutus , replied I, beyond all Contro.verfy. He afkcd me. Why? Where \yas the Dif¬ ference, when their Fortunes, as we now 7 fcppofed them, wereconfidered as th rfame? There fepms, faid I, abftradt from their Fortunes fomethmg,! know' not what, jntrinfcally preferable in the Life and Cha¬ racter or Brutus. If that, faid he, be true, then mull we derive it, not from the uccejs ot h:s Endeavours, but from their Truth and Reel if tide. He had the Comfort to be cpnfcious, that his Caufe was a juft one. It was impcffible the other IhouJd have i Dialogue. 185 have any fuch Feeling. I believe, Part II, {aid I, you have explained it. 6 \ — Suppose then, continued he, (it is but merely an Hypothecs) fuppofe, I fay, we were to place the Sovereign Good in fuck a Redhtude of Conduct—in the Conduct merely , and 72 ot in the Event. Suppofe we were to fix our Happiness, not in the actual Attainment of thatHealth, that Per¬ fection of a Social State, that fortunate Concurrence of Externals, which is con¬ gruous to our Nature, and which we have a Right all to purfuej but folely fix it in the mere Doing whatever is correfpondent to fuch an End, even tho* we never attain, or are near attaining it. In fewer words— What if we make our Natural State the Standard only to determine our Conduct; and place our Happinefs in the Re&itude of this Conduct alone? —-On fuch an Hypothefis (and we confider it as nothing farther) we fhould not want a Good perhaps, to cor - refpond to our Pre-conceptions; for this, it is evident, would be correfpondent to them all . 186 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part IT.#//• Your Dodtrine, replied I, is To *-—v—new and ftrange, that tho’ you have been copious in explaining, I can hardly yet comprehend you. It amounts all, Paid he, but to this- Place your Happinefs , where your Praife is. I afked. Where he fuppofed that ? Not, replied he, in the Plea- fures which you feel, more than your Difgrace lies in the Pain-not in the cafual Profperity of Fortune, more than your Difgrace in the cafual Adverfity-- but in jujl complete Aclion throughout every Part of Life , what ever be the Face of Filings y whether favourable or the con¬ trary . But why then, faid J, fuch Accuracy about Externals ? So much Pains to be in¬ formed, what are Purfuable , what Avoid¬ able 1 It behoves the Pilot, replied he, to know the Seas and the Winds; the Nature of Tempefts, Calms, and Tides. They are the Subjects , about which his Art is i Dialogue. iSp is converfant. Without a juft Experience p art jj of them, he can never prove himfelf an u, rv— Artiji. Yet we look not for his Reputa¬ tion either in fair Gales, or in adverfe ; but in the Skilfulnefs of hisConduB , bethefe Events as they happen. In like manner fares it with this the Moral Artift. He, for a Subject! has the Whole oj Human Life —— Health and Sicknefs ; Pleafure and Pain ; with every other pofiible Incident, which can befal him during his Exiftence. If his Knowledge of all thefe be accurate and exact, fo too mu ft his ConduB , in which we place his Happinefs . But if this Know¬ ledge be defective, muft not his ConduB be defective alfo ? I replied, fo it fhould feem. And if his Conduct, then his Happinefs ? It is true. You fee then, continued he, even tho" Externals were as nothing \ tho’ it was true, }n their own Nature, they were neither Good nor Evil j yet an accurate Knowledge of them is, from our Hypothecs, abfolutely necejjary. i8 '$ Concerning HAPPINESS, Part W.neceJJary. Indeed, faid I, you have 'proved it. He continued-inferior Artifts may be at a Hand, becaufe they want Materials. From their Stubbornefs and Intractability, they may often be difappointed. But as long as Life is palling, and Nature con¬ tinues to operate, the Moral Artiji of Life has at all times, all he defires. He can never want a Subjedl fit to exercife him in his proper Calling j and that, with this happy Motive to the Conftancy of his Endeavours, that, the croller, the harlher, the more untoward the Events, the greater his Prafe , the more illullrious his Repu¬ tation. All this, faid I, is true, and cannot be denied. But one Circumftance there ap¬ pears, where your Similes feem to fail. The Prafe indeed of the Pilot we allow to be in his Conduit; but it is in the Succefs of that Conduct, where we look for his Happinefs . If a Storm arife, and the Ship be A Dialogue. 189 be loft, we call him not happy , how well Part II* foever he may have conducted. It is then only we congratulate him, when he has reached the befired Haven. Your Diftindion, faid he, is juft. And it is here lies the noble Prerogative of Moral Artijls, above all others—But yet I know not how to explain rhyfelf, I fear my Dodrine will appear fo ftrange. You may proceed, faid I, fafely, fmce you advance it but as an Hypothecs. Thus then, continued he-The End in other Arts is ever diftant and removed. It confifts not in the mere Condudl , much lefs in a Jingle Energy ; but is the juft Re - fult of many Energies , each of which are eftential to it. Hence, by Obftacles un¬ avoidable, it may often be retarded: Nav more, may be fo embarrafted, as neverpof- Jibly to be attained . But in the Moral Art of Life, the very Conduct is the End ; the very ConduSl , I fay, itfelf, throughout every its minutejl Energy; becaufe each of thefe, however minute , partake as truly of Reftitude t igo Concerning HAPPINESS, Part II. ReBitude , as th zlargeft Combination of them * when confidered collectively. Hence of all Arts is this the only one perpetually complete in every Infant , becaufe it needs not, like other Arts, Rime to arrive at that Perfection, at which in every Infant it i3 arrived already. Hence by Duration it is not rendered either more or lefs perfeCt ; CompletioUi like Truth, admitting of no Degrees, and being in no fenfe capable of either Intenfon or Rethifion. And hence too by neceffary Connection (which is a greater Paradox than all) even that Happi - nefs or Sovereign Good , the End of this Moral Art, is itfelf too, in every Infant , Confumniate and Complete; is neither heigh¬ tened or dimini fed by the Quantity of its Duration , but is the fame to its Enjoyers, for a Moment or a Century. Upon this I fmiled. Pie afked me the Reafon- It is only to obferve, faid I, the Courfe of our Inquiries-A new Hy¬ pothecs has been advanced--Appearing fomewhat ftrange, it is defired to be ex¬ plained— A Dialogue. igi plained-You comply with the Requeft, Part IL and in purfuit of the Explanation, make it ten times more obfcure and unintelligible, than before. It is but too often the Fate, faid he, of us Commentators. But you know in fuch cafes what is ufually done. When the Comment will not ex¬ plain the Text, we try whether the Text will not explain itfelf. This Method, it is poffible, may affift us here. The Hypo- thefis, which we would have illuftrated, was no more than this-That the Sove¬ reign Good lay in Re Hit nde of ConduB, and that this Good cor ref ponded to all our Pre¬ conceptions. Let us examine then, whether, upon trial, this Correfpondence will appear to hold; and, for all that wehaveadvanced iince, luffer it to pafs, and not perplex us. Agreed, faid I, willingly, for now I hope to comprehend you. § 2 . Recollect then, faid he. Do you not remember that one Pre-conception of the Sovereign Good was, to be accommodate to all Times and Places ? I remember it. And 4 Concerning HAPPINESS,* And is there any Time, or any Place, whence Reftitude of Conduct may be ex¬ cluded ? Is there not a right Addon in Profperity, a right Adion in Adverfity?—- May there not be a decent, generous, and laudable Behaviour, not only in Peace, in Power, and in Health , but in War, in Oppreffion, in Sicknefs and in Death ? There may. And what fhall we fay to thofe other Pre-conceptions -to being Durable , Self- derived, and Indeprivable ? Can there be anv Good fo Durable , as the Power of al- j ways doing right ? Is there any Good con¬ ceivable, fo intirely beyond the Power of ethers Or, if you hefitate, and are doubt¬ ful, I would willingly be informed, into what Circumftances may Fortune throw a brave and honeft Man, where it fhall not be in his Power to aft bravely andhonefily? If there are no fuch, then Reftitude of Con- dufty if a Good, is a Good Indeprivable. I confefs, faid I, it appears fo. But A Dialogue. *93 But farther, faid he——Another Pre- Part IL conception of the Sovereign Good was, to be Agreeable to Nature. It was. And can any thing be more agreeable to a Rational and Social Animal, than Rational and SocialConduCt? Nothing. But Rectitude of ConduCt is with us Rational and Social Conduct. It is. Once more, continued he—Another Pre-conception of this Good was, to be Con¬ ducive, not to Mere-being, but to Well¬ being. Admit it. And can any < thing, believe you, conduce fo probably to the Well-being of a Rational Social Animal* as the right Exercife of that Reafon, and of thofe Social Affections t Nothing. And what is this fame Exercife, but the highejl Rectitude of Conduct ? Certainly. § 3. You fee then, faid he, how well our Hypothecs, being once admitted, tal¬ lies with our Original Pre-conceptions of the Sovereign Good. I replied, it in- O deed 194 Concerning HAPPINESS,- Part II. deed appeared fo, and could not be denied. ’But who, think you, ever dreamt of a Happinefs like this? A Happinefs depen¬ dent, not on the Succefs , but on the Aim ? Even common and ordinary Life, replied he, can furnifh us with Examples^ Aik of the Sportfman where lies his En¬ joyment? Afk whether it be in the Pof- fejjion of a flaughtered Hare, or Fox ? He would reject, with Contempt, the very Suppofition——He would tell you, as well as he was able, that the Joy was in the Purftidt —in the Difficulties which are ob¬ viated ; in the Faults, which are retrieved ; in the Conduct and Direction of the Chace thro’ all its Parts—that the Completion of their Endeavours was fo far from giving them Joy, that inftantly at that Period all their joy was at an End. For Sportf- men, replied I, this may be no bad Rea- foning. It is not the Sentiment, faid he, of Sportimen alone. The Man of Gal¬ lantry not unoften has been found to think after the fame manner. — Meus eft amor hide Jimilis ; nam Pranj- \ i A Dialogue, 195 Tranfvolat in medio pofita, & fugientia Part lL cap tat *. To thefe we may add the Tribe of Buil¬ ders and Projectors. Or has not your own Experience informed you of Numbers, who, in the Building and Laying-out , have expreifed the highest Delight but (hewn the utmoft Indifference to the Re/ieltof their Labours, to the Manfion or Gardens, when once finifhed and complete ? a The Truth, faid I, of thefe Examples is not to be difputed. But I could wifh your Hypothecs had better than thefe to fupport it. In the ferious View of Happi - nefs , do you ever imagine there were any* who could fix it (as we faid before) not on the Succefs , but on the Aim ? More, even in this light* faid he, than perhaps at firft you may imagine. There are Inflances innumerable of Men, bad as well as goody who having fixed, as their Aim, a certain ConduB of their own, have O 2 fo * Hor. Sat. II. L, i. v. 107. / 196 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part IT. fo far attached their Welfare and Happinefs V ’ w '~ w to it, as to deem all Events in its Prosecu¬ tion, whether fortunate or unfortunate, to be mean, contemptible, and not worthy their Regard . 1 called on him for Examples. What think you, Paid he, of the Af- faftin, who flew the fir ft Prince ot Orange ; and who, tho’ brought by his Condud to the moft excpiifite Tortures, yet confcious of what he had done, could bear them all unmoved ? Or (if you will have a better Man) what think you of that fturdy Roman , who would have difpatched Porfenna ; and who, full of his Defign, and fuperior to all Events, could thruft a Hand into the Flames with thefteadieft Intrepidity? I replied, That thefe indeed were very un¬ common Inftances. Attend too, continued he, to Epi¬ curus dying, the Founder of a Philofophy, little favouring of Enthufiafm -“ Phis 1 f( write you (fays he, in one of hisEpiftles) g{ while the laft Day of Life is puffing, and that A Dialogue. 197 “ that a Happy One. The Pains indeed of Part “ my Body are not capable of being heigh - “ tened. Yet to thefe we oppofe that Joy of “ the Soul, which arifesfrom the Memory “ of our paf Speculations —■—Hear him, confonant to this, in another Place avert¬ ing, that a Rational Adverfity was better than an Irrational Profperity. And what think you ? - Had he not placed his Good and Happinefs in the fup- pofed Rectitude of his Opinions , would he not have preferred Profperity , at all rates, to Adverfity ? Would not the Pains, of which he died, have made his Happinefs perfect Mifery ?-And yet, you fee, he difowns any fuch thing. The Memory of his paft Life, and of his Philofophical In¬ ventions were, even in the Hour of Death it leems, a Counterpoife to fupport him. It muft be owned, faid I, that you appear to reafon juftly. Pass from Epicurusy continued he, to Socrates. What are the Sentiments of that O 3 divine Concerning HAPPINESS, II. divine Man, fpeaking of his own unjuit Condemnation ? “ O Crito, fays he, if it “ be pieajing to the Cods this way, then be “ it this way And again-—-—“ Anytus ■ { and Melitus, 1 grant, can hill me-, but “to hurt or injure me, is beyond their “ will beft obey the Wife Man s Precept —— “For neither will he be feen to grieve, nor “ to rejoice in excefs, from the Trufi and <£ Confidence which he has repofed in himfelfP ■—You have a Sketch at leaf!: of his Mean¬ ing, tho’ far below his own Attic and truly elegant Expreffion. I grant, faid I, your Example; but this and the reft are but ftngle Inftances. What are three or four in Number, to the whole of Human Kind ? If you are for Numbers, replied he, what think you of the numerous Race of Patriots, in all Ages and Nations, who have joyfully met Death, rather than defert their Country, when in danger ? They muft have thought furely on another Happinefs than Succefs , when they could gladly go, where they faw Death often inevitable. Or what think you of the many Martyrs O 4 for 200 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part II. for Syftems wrong as well as right, who ^ r—'have dared defy the worft, rather than fwerve from their Belief ? You have brought indeed, faid I, more Examples than could have been imagined. Besides, continued he, what is that Comfort of a Good Conscience, cele¬ brated to fuch a height in the Religion which we profels, but the Joy arifingfrom a Confcience of right Energies ; a Con¬ fcience of having done nothing, but what js confonant to our Duty? I replied, Jt indeed appeared fo. Even the Vulgar, continued he, re¬ cognize a Good of this very Chara&er, when they fay of an Undertaking, tho’ it fucceed not, that they are contented; that they have done their beft, and can accufe themfelves of nothing. For what is this but placing their Content, their Good } their Happinefs , notin the Succefs of Endeavours, but in the Rediitude? If it be not the Jledlitude which contents them, you muff tell A Dialogue. 20 I tell me what it is elfe. It appears, Part IT. replied I, to be that alone. V ’”“ Y I hope then, continued he, that tho’ you accede not to this Notion of Happinefs, which I advance; you will at lead: allow it not to be fuch a Paradox, as at firfl you feemed to imagine. That indeed, replied I, cannot be denied you. § 4. Granting me this, faid he, you encourage me to explain myfelf—We have fuppofed the Sovereign Good to lie in RedlT tude of Coiiducl. We have. And think you there can be Re&itude of Con¬ duct, if we do not live confijlently ? In what Senfe, faid I, would you be un¬ derflood ? To live confidently , faid he, is the fame with me, as To live agreeably to Jome one Jingle and confonant Scheme , or Pur - pofe. Undoubtedly, faid I, without this, there can be no Redlitude of Conduct. All Redlitude of Conduct then, you fay, implies fuch Confidence. It does. And does all Confifience } think you, imply fuch 202 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part II fuch Re Bit ude f I allied him. Why '“’"-v-—' not ? It is poflible, indeed it may, faid he, for aught we have difcovered yet to the contrary. But what if it fhould be found that there may be numberlefs Schemes, each in particular confifient with itfelf] but yet all of them different , and fome perhaps contrary? There may, you know, be a confifient Life of Knavery, as well as a confifient Life of Honefty; there may be a uniform Practice of Luxury, as well as of Temperance, and Abftemiouf- nefs. Will the Confidence, common to all of thefie Lives , render the Con duel in each, right ? It appears, faid I, an Abfur- dily, that there fhould be the fame Recti¬ tude in two Contraries. If fo, faid he, we mud look for fomething more than mere Confidence, when we fearch for that Lie Bit ude, which we at prefent talk of. A confifient Life indeed is requifite, but that alone is not enough. We mud de¬ termine its peculiar Species , if we would be accurate and exadt. It indeed ap¬ pears, faid I, neceflary. Nor A Dialogue. Nor is any thing, continued he, more p ar t U c eafy to be difcuffed. For what can that peculiar Confidence of Life be elfe, than a Life, whofe feveral Parts are not only con- fonant to each other, but to the Nature alfo of the Being, by whom that Life has been adopted ? Does not this lajl Degree of Confidence appear as requifite as the former? I anfwered. It could not be otnerwife. You fee then, laid he, the true Idea of right Conduit. It is not, merely To live confiflently \ but it is To live confftently with Nature . Allow it. But what, continued he. Can we live confifently ivith Nature , and be at a lofs how to behave ourfelves ? We cannot. And can we know how to behave purfelves, if we know nothing of what hefals us y nothing of thofe Things and Events , which perpetually furround, and affeit us ? We cannot. You fee then. 204 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part II. then, continued he, how we are again ^ ' fallen infenfibly into that Doctrine, which proves the Neceflity of ferutinizing, and knowing the Value oj Externals, I re¬ plied, it was true. If you affent, Paid he, to this, it will of courfe follow, that, To live conjzfiently with Nature , is, To live agreeably to ajujl Experience of thoje Things, which happen around us. It appears lo. But farther Hill, faid he.—Think you any one can be deemed to live agreeably to fuch Experience, if he feledt not, as far as poffible, the things moll congruous to his Nature? He cannot. And by the fame Pvule, as far as poffible, muft he not rejeSl fuch as are contrary? He muft. And that not occafionally, as Fancy happens to prompt j but feadily, conjlantly, and without Remiffion. I fhould imagine fo. You judge, faid he, truly. Were he to act otherwife in the leaf! inflance, he would falfify his Profefiions ; he would not live according to that Experience, which we now fup- A Dialogue. 205 pofe him to polk fs. would not. I replied. He Part IE It fhould faem then, laid he, from hence, as a natural Confeauence of what we have admitted, that the EJJence of right ConduB lay in Selection and Rejection. So, faid I, it has ap¬ peared. And that fuch SeleBion and Rejection fhould be confonant with our pro¬ per Nature. It is true. And be jieady and perpetual, not occalional and in¬ terrupted. It is true. But if this be the Effence of Right Conduct, then too it is the ElTence of our Sovereign Good; for in fuch Conduct we have fuppofed this Good to confill. Wc have. See then, faid he, the Refult of our Inquiry.-The Sovereign Good, as conftituted by ReBitudeof ConduB , has, on our ftridred: Scrutiny, appeared to be this— To live perpetually selecting, as FAR AS POSSIBLE, WHAT IS CONGRUOUS to Nature, and rejecting what is CON- 2 o6 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part II. CONTRARY, MAKING OUR End THAT Selecting and that Rejecting only. It is true, Paid I, fo it appears. § 5. Before we haflen then farther, faid he, let us flop to recoiled, and fee whether our prefent Conclufions accord with our former.—We have now fuppofed the Sovereign Good to be Rectitude of Con¬ duct t and this Conduct we have made con- lift in a certain Selecting and Rejecting. We have. And do you not imagine that the Selecting and Rejecting) which we propofe, as they are purely governed by the Standard of Nature, are capable in every inftance of being rationally juftified? I replied, I thought they were But if they admit a rational J unification, then are they Moral Offices or Duties 5 for thus * you remember yefterday a Moral Office was defined. It was. But if fo, To live in the Practice of them, will be ---—■—■—■—*———-——.... * Su P- P- 175- A Dialogue. \ ■» 2 °? be To live In the D if charge of Moral Offices. Part II. It will. But To live in the Diffi charge of thefe , is the fame as Living ac¬ cording to Virtue , and Living according to Nature. It is. So therefore is Living in that Selection, and in that Rejec¬ tion, which we propofe. It is. We need never therefore be at a lofs, faid he, for a Defcription of the Sove¬ reign Good. -We may call it. Rec¬ titude of Conduct.— -If that be too contracted, we may enlarge and fay, it is—- To live perpetually Selecting and Rejecting according to the Stan¬ dard of our Being.—— If we are for ftill different Views, we may fay it is-- To live in the Discharge of Mo¬ ral Offices— To live according to Nature -To live according to Virtue- To live according to just Experience of those Things, which happen around us. ——Like fome finished Statue, we may behold it every way it is the fame Objed, tho’ varioufly 2o8 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part II. varioufly viewed; nor is there a View'/ u ^ vW bi]t is natural* truly graceful* and en¬ gaging- §9-1 cannot deny, faid I, but that as you now have explained it, your Hypothefis feems far more plaufible, than when firft it was propofed. You will believe it, faid he, more fo ft ill, by con- fidering it with more Attention.—In the firft place, tho’ perhaps it efteem nothing really Good but Virtue, nothing really Evil, but Vice, yet it in no manner takes away the Difference , and DiJlinClion of other ‘Things. So far otherwife, it is for eftablifhing their Diftindtion to the greateft Accuracy. For were this neglect¬ ed, what would become of Selection and Rejection, thofe important Energies, which are its very Soul and ElTence ? Were there noDiFFERENCE, there could be no Choice. It is true, faid I, there could not. Again, faid he. It is no meagre, mor¬ tifying Syflem of Self-denial— It fuppre/Tes no A Dialogue. 209 no Social and Natural Affections,nor takes Part II* away any Social and Natural Relations—-"V"" J It prefcribes no Abflainings, no Forbear¬ ances out of Nature ; no gloomy, fad; and lonely Rules of Life, without which it is evident Men may be as honed; as with> and be infinitely more ufeful and worthy Members of Society.—It refufes no Plea- fure, not inconfiftent with Temperance—* It rejeCts no Gain, not inconfiftent with fuftice -Univerfally, as far as Virtue neither forbids nor dijfuades, it endeavours to render Life, even in the moft vulgar Acceptation, as chearful, joyous, and eafy as poflible. Nay, could it mend the Condi¬ tion of Exigence in any the moft trivialCw- cumftance, even by adding to the ampleft Poffeffions the pooreft meaneft Utenfi!, it would in no degree contemn an Addition even fo mean. Far otherwife—It would confider, that to negleCt the lead Acqui- lition, when fairly in its power, would be to fall fhort of that perfedl and accurate Conduct which it ever has in view, and on which alone all depends. P And 210 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part II. And yet, tho’ thus exaCt In every the minuted Circurndance, it gives us no Soli¬ citude as to what Rank we maintain in Life. Whether noble or ignoble, wealthy or poor; whether merged in Bufinefs, or confined to Inactivity, it is equally conjijient with every Condition , and equally capable of adorning them all. Could it indeed choofe its own Life, it would be always that, where mod focial Affections might extenfively be exerted, and mod done to contribute to the Welfare of Society. But if Fate order otherwife, and this be de¬ nied; its Intentions are the fame, its En¬ deavours are not wanting ; nor are the Social , Rational Powers forgotten, even in Times and Circumdances, where they can lead; become confpicuous. It teaches us to confider Life, as one great important Drama, where we have each our Part allotted us to aCt. It tells us that our Happinefs , as Affiors in this Dra?na , confiffs not in the Length of our 4 Part, A Dialogue. 21 i Part, nor in the State and Dignity , but in Part IL the juft , the decent > and the natural Per- y formance. If its Aims are fuccefsful, it is thankful to Providence. It accepts all the Joys, de¬ rived from their Succefs , and feels them as fully, as thofe who know no other Happi- nels. The only Difference is, that having a more excellent Good in view, it fixes not, like the Many, its Happinefs on Succefs alone, well knowing that in fuch cafe, if Endeavours fail , there can be nothing left behind but Murmurings and Mifery. On the contrary, when this happens, it is then it retires into itfelf, and reflecting on what is Fair , what is Laudable and Honefl (the truly beatific Vfion , not of mad Enthujiajls , but of the Calm, the Temperate, the Wife and the Good) it becomes fuperiour to all Events ; it acquiefces in the Confcioufnefs of its own Rediitude j and, like that Manflon founded, not on the Sands, but on the Rock, it defies all the Terrors of Temped and Inundation. j P 2 § 7. I 212 Concerning HAPPINESS, Part II § 7 * ETere he patlfed, and I took the w—*v“—- Opportunity to obferve, how his Subjedl had warmed him into a degree of Rap¬ ture how greatly it had railed both his Sentiments and his Stile. No wonder, faid he. Beauty of every kind excites our Love and Admiration ; the Beauties or Art, whether Energies or Works', the Beauties of Nature, whether Animal or Inanimate. And fhall we expe till it arrive at that greatefl , u—v—v 44 where Imagination Hops, and can ad- 44 vance no farther. In this lad, this 4C mighty, this (lupendous Idea, it beholds 44 the Universe itfelf, of which every 44 Thing is a Part, and with refpedl to 44 which not the fmallefl Atom is either “ foreign or detached. 44 Wide as its Extent, is the Wifdom 44 of its Workmanship, not bounded and 44 narrow, like the humbler Works of Art. 44 Thefe are all of Origin no higher than 44 Human. We can readily trace them to 4£ their etmoft Limit, and with accuracy 44 difcern both their Beginning and their 44 End. But where the Microfcope that 44 can (hew us, from what Point Wifdom 44 begins in Nature ? Where the Telefcope 44 that can defcry, to what Infinitude it 44 extends? The more diligent our Search, 44 the more accurate our Scrutiny, the “ more only are we convinced, that our 45 Labours can never finifii; that Subjects 44 inex- A Dialogue. 227 6< inexhauftible remain behind, flill un-Part II, “ explored. f “ Hence the Mind truly wife, qult- ting the Study of Particulars , as know- <( ing their Multitude to be infinite and in- ** comprehenjible , turns its intellectual Eye