EPISTLES TO SEVERAL PERSONS.
[]ADVERTISEMENT.
[]THE ESSAY ON MAN was intended to have been compriſed in Four Books:
The Firſt of which, the Author has given us under that title, in four Epiſtles. The Second was to have conſiſted of the ſame number: 1. Of the extent and li⯑mits of human Reaſon. 2. Of thoſe Arts and Sciences, and of the parts of them, which are uſeful, and therefore attainable, together with thoſe which are unuſeful, and therefore unattainable. 3. Of the Nature, Ends, Uſe, and Application of the diffe⯑rent Capacities of Men. 4. Of the Uſe of Learning, of the Science of the World, and of Wit: concluding with a Satyr againſt the Miſapplication of them, illuſtrated by Pictures, Characters, and Examples.
The Third Book regarded Civil Regimen, or the Science of Politics, in which the ſeveral forms of a Republic were to have been examined and explained; together with the ſeveral Modes of Religious Worſhip, as far forth as they affect Society; between which, the Author always ſuppoſed there was the moſt intereſting relation and cloſeſt con⯑nection; ſo that this part would have treated of Civil and Religious Society in their full extent.
The Fourth and laſt Book concerned private Ethics or practical Morality, conſidered in all the Circumſtances, Orders, Profeſſions, and Stations of human Life.
The Scheme of all this had been maturely digeſted, and communicated to the L. Bolinbroke. Dr Swift, and one or two more, and was intended for the only work of his riper Years: But was, partly thro' ill health, partly thro' diſcouragements from the depravity of the times, and partly on prudential and other conſiderations, inter⯑rupted, poſtponed, and, laſtly, in a manner laid aſide.
But as this was the Author's favourite Work, which more exactly reflected the Image of his ſtrong capacious Mind, and as we can have but a very imperfect idea of it from the disjecta membra Poetae that now remain, it may not be amiſs to be a little more particu⯑lar concerning each of theſe projected books.
The FIRST, as it treats of Man in the abſtract, and conſiders him in general under every of his relations, becomes the foundation, and furniſhes out the ſubjects, of the three following; ſo that
The SECOND Book takes up again the Firſt and Second Epiſtles of the Firſt Book, and treats of man in his intellectual Capacity at large, as has been explained above. Of this, only a ſmall part of the concluſion (which, as we ſaid, was to have contained a Satyr againſt the miſapplication of Wit and Learning) may be found in the Fourth Book of the Dunciad, and up and down, occaſionally, in the other three.
[] The Third Book, in like manner, reaſſumes the ſubject of the Third Epiſtle of the Firſt, which treats of Man in his Social, Political, and Religious Capacity. But this part the Poet afterwards conceived might be beſt executed in an EPIC POEM; as the Action would make it more animated, and the Fable leſs invidious; in which all the great Principles of true and falſe Governments and Religions ſhould be chiefly delivered in feigned Examples. In purſuance of this deſign, he plan'd out a Poem on the ſubject of the fabulous BRUTUS, the great Grandſon of Aeneas: whoſe firſt and predominant principle he makes to be Benevolence; from this Ruling Paſſion ariſes a ſtrong deſire to redeem the remains of his countrymen, then captives amongſt the Greeks, from ſlavery and miſery, and to eſtabliſh their freedom and felicity on a juſt form of Civil Government. He had ſeen how falſe Policy, and Superſtitions and Vices proceed⯑ing from it, had cauſed the ruin of Troy; and he was enabled to avoid the one by the lights his countrymen, whom he had now gathered from their diſperſion, could afford him from their obſervations on the various policies of the Grecian Cities; and to reform the other by the Wiſdom he himſelf had gained in Italy, where Evander, as we are told by Virgil, had reformed the reigning Superſtitions:
Thus qualified for the office of Legiſlation, he puts to ſea with a number of brave follow⯑ers; enters the Atlantic Ocean; and after various traverſes (each of which produces ſome new leſſon of Politics) he arrives in Britain, where having ſurmounted many ſucceſſive difficulties, which bring him ſtill nearer and nearer to the point the poet aims at, he at length eſtabliſhes for his Trojans that perfect form of Civil Government which it was our author's purpoſe to recommend. The poem opens (of which very few lines of the introduction only were written) with Brutus at the Straits of Calpé, in ſight of the ne plus ultra on Hercules's Pillars, debating in councel whether he ſhould enter the great ocean.
The FOURTH and laſt Book purſues the ſubject of the Fourth Epiſtle of the Firſt, and treats of Ethics, or practical Morality; and would have conſiſted of many members; of of which the four following Epiſtles were detached Portions: the two firſt, on the Cha⯑racters of Men and Women being the introductory part of this concluding Book.
EPISTLE I.
To Sir RICHARD TEMPLE, Lord Viſcount COBHAM.
[]ARGUMENT of the FIRST EPISTLE.
Of the Knowledge and Characters of MEN.
[]THAT it is not ſufficient for this knowledge to conſider Man in the Abſ⯑tract: Books will not ſerve the purpoſe, nor yet our own Experience ſingly, ℣ 1. General maxims, unleſs they be form'd upon both, will be but no⯑tional, ℣ 10. Some Peculiarity in every man, characteriſtic to himſelf, yet varying from himſelf, ℣ 15. Difficulties ariſing from our own Paſſi⯑ons, Fancies, Faculties, &c. ℣ 31. The ſhortneſs of Life, to obſerve in, and the uncertainty of the Principles of action in men, to obſerve by, ℣ 37, &c. Our own Principle of action often bid from ourſelves, ℣ 41. Some few Characters plain, but in general confounded, diſſembled, or incon⯑ſiſtent, ℣ 51. The ſame man utterly different in different place and ſea⯑ſons, ℣ 71. Unimaginable weakneſſes in the greateſt, ℣ 70, &c. No⯑thing conſtant and certain but God and Nature, ℣ 95. No judging of the Motives from the actions; the ſame actions proceeding from con⯑trary Motives, and the ſame Motives influencing contrary actions, ℣ 100. II. Yet to form Characters, we can only take the ſtrongeſt actions of a man's life, and try to make them agree: The utter uncertainty of this, from Nature itſelf, and from Policy, ℣ 120. Characters given according to the rank of men of the world, ℣ 135. And ſome reaſon for it, ℣ 140. Education alters the Nature, or at leaſt Character of many, ℣ 149. Actions, Paſſions, Opinions, Manners, Humours, or Principles all ſub⯑ject to change. No judging by Nature, from ℣ 158 to 178. III. It only remains to find (if we can) his RULING PASSION: That will certainly influence all the reſt, and can reconcile the ſeeming or real inconſiſtency of all his actions, ℣ 175. Inſtanced in the extraordinary character of Clo⯑dio, ℣ 179. A caution againſt miſtaking ſecond qualities for firſt, which will deſtroy all poſſibility of the knowledge of mankind, ℣ 210. Examples of the ſtrength of the Ruling Paſſion, and its continuation to the laſt breath, ℣ 222, &c.
NOTES.
[2]The poet has here covertly deſcribed a famous ſy⯑ſtem of a man of the world, the celebrated Maxims of M. de la Rochefoucault, which are one continued ſatyr on human Na⯑ture, and hold much of the ill language of the Parrat: The reaſon of the cenſure our author's ſyſtem of human Nature will explain.
[3]
The Poet refers here only to the effects. In the Eſſay on Man he gives both the efficient and the final cauſe: The Firſt in the third Ep. ℣ 231.
For oblique Wit is Opinion. The other, in the ſecond Ep. ℣ 283.
[4]
i. e. The Philoſpher may in⯑vent a rational hypotheſis that ſhall account for the appearances he would inveſtigate; and yet that hypotheſis be all the while very wide of truth and the nature of things.
This Simile is extremely beautiful. To ſhew the difficulty of diſcovering the o⯑perations of the heart in a moral ſenſe, he illuſtrates it by another attempt ſtill more difficult, the diſcovery of its operations in a natural: For the ſeat of animal life being in the heart, our endeavours of tracing it thither muſt neceſſarily drive it from thence.
[5]
Theſe two lines are remarkable for the exactneſs and propriety of expreſſion. The word tincture, which implies a weak colour given by degrees, well deſcribes the influence of the Man⯑ners; and the word diſcolour, which im⯑plies a quicker change and by a deeper dye, denotes as well the operation of the Paſſions.
[8]
Charron was an admirer of Montagne; had contracted a ſtrict friend⯑ſhip with him; and has transferred an in⯑finite number of his thoughts into his fa⯑mous book De la Sageſſe; but his mode⯑rating every-where the extravagant Pyr⯑rhoniſm of his friend, is the reaſon why the poet calls him more ſage Charron.
[9]
Louis XI. of France, wore in his Hat a leaden image of the Virgin Mary, which when he ſwore by, he feared to break his oath.
Philip Duke of Orleans, Regent of France in the minority of Louis XV. ſuperſtitious in judicial aſtrology, tho' an unbeliever in all religion. The ſame has been obſerved of many other Politicians. The Italians, in general, are not more noted for their refined Politics than for their attachment to the dotages of Aſtro⯑logy. It may be worth while to enquire into the cauſe of ſo ſingular a phenome⯑non, as it may probably turn out to the honour of Religion. I take then the caſe to be this: Theſe men obſerving (and none have equal opportunities) how per⯑petually public events fall out beſides their expectation, and contrary to the beſt-laid ſchemes of worldly policy, cannot but confeſs that human affairs are ordered by ſome power extrinſical. To acknowledge a God and his Providence would be next to introducing a morality deſtructive of that public ſyſtem which they think ne⯑ceſſary for the government of the world. They have recourſe therefore to that ri⯑diculous and abſurd ſcheme of Power which rules by no other law than Fate or Deſtiny. The conſideration of this perhaps was the reaſon that the poet, to keep up decorum and to preſerve the diſtinction between a Patriot and a Poli⯑tician, makes the ſormer rely on Provi⯑dence for the public ſafety, in the conclud⯑ing words of the Epiſtle,
Philip V. of Spain, who, after renouncing the throne for Religion, reſum'd it to gratify his Queen; and Victor Amadeus II. King of Sardmia, who reſign'd the crown, and trying to reaſ⯑ſume it, was impriſon'd till his death.
[10] By Nature is not here meant any imagi⯑nary ſubſtitute of God, called a Plaſtic nature; but his moral laws: And this ob⯑ſervation was inſerted with great propriety and diſcretion, in the concluſion of a long detail of the various characters of men: For, from this circumſtance, Montagne and others have been bold enough to inſinuate, that morality is ſounded more in cuſtom and faſhion than in the nature of things. The ſpeaking therefore of a moral law of God as having all the conſtancy and durability of his Eſſence, had an high expediency in this place.
[11]
The atrabilaire complexion of Philip II. is well known, but not ſo well that be derived it from his father Charles V. whoſe health, the hiſtorians of his life tell us, was frequently diſorder'd by bilious ſe⯑vers. But what the author meant prin⯑cipally to obſerve here was, that this hu⯑mour made both theſe princes act con⯑trary to their Character; Charles, who was an active man, when he retired into a Convent; Philip, who was a man of the Cloſet, when he gave the battle of St. Quintin.
[12]
By reaſoning is not here meant ſpecula⯑ting; but deliberating and reſolving in public counſels; for this inſtance is given as one, of a variety of actions.
[13]
Caeſar wrote his Com⯑mentaries, in imitation of the Greek Ge⯑nerals, for the entertainment of the world: But had his friend aſked him, in his ear, the reaſon of his ſudden retreat from Britain, after ſo many ſignal victo⯑ries, we have cauſe to ſuſpect, even from his own public relation of that matter, that he would have whiſper'd he was beat.
After the battle of Pharſalia, Caeſar purſued his enemy to Alexandria, where being infatuated with the charms of Cleopatra, inſtead of puſh⯑ing his advantages, and diſperſing the re⯑licks of the Pharſalian quarrel, having narrowly eſcaped the violence of an en⯑raged people, he brought upon himſelf an unneceſſary war, at a time his arms were moſt wanted elſewhere.
[14]
This whole reflexion, and the ſi⯑militude brought to ſupport it, have a great delicacy of ridicule.—A man diſ⯑pos'd to cavil would fancy the ſimilitude not exact; for that the principal reaſon of our preferring the Gem is for its durabi⯑lity. But does he not ſee it is equally for its rarity; and that when once a Court⯑virtue riſes and comes in the way of ſuch a lover of it as our poet, it ſeldom ſets again, but bids fair for being immortal?
[15]
Diſaſters the moſt unlooked for, as they were what the Freethinker's Speculations and Practice were principally directed to avoid.—The poet here alludes to the an⯑cient claſſical opinion, that the ſudden vi⯑ſion of a God was ſuppoſed to ſtrike the ir⯑reverend obſerver ſpeechleſs. He has only a little extended the conceit, and ſup⯑poſed, that the terrors of a Court-God might have the like effect on a very de⯑voted worſhipper.
[16]
The poet had hitherto reckoned up the ſeveral ſimple cauſes that hinder our know⯑ledge of the natural Characters of men. In theſe two fine lines he deſcribes the complicated cauſes. Humours bear the the ſame relation to Manners that Princi⯑ples do to Tenets; that is, the former are modes of the latter; our Manners are warped from nature by our Fortunes or Stations; our Tenets, by our Books or Profeſſions; and then each drawn ſtill more oblique, into humour and political principles, by the temperature of the cli⯑mate and the conſtitution of the govern⯑ment.
[17]
This very well expreſſes the groſſneſs of his ap⯑petite for it; where the ſtrength of the Paſſion had deſtroyed all the delicacy of the Senſation.
VER. 187. John Willmot, Earl of Rocheſter, famous for his Wit and Extravagancies in the time of Charles the Second.
[18]
Folly, joined with much Wit, produces that behaviour which we call Ab⯑ſurdity; and this Abſurdity the poet has here admirably deſcribed in the words,
by which we are made to underſtand, that the perſon deſcribed gave a looſe to his Fancy when he ſhould have uſed his Judg⯑ment, and purſued his Speculations when he ſhould have truſted to his Experience.
[19]
It was indeed very hard; when, tho' this be the common road to Greatneſs, and he had taken this road, and perſevered in it to the laſt, yet that he ſhould have the ſtrange fortune ſtill to miſs of it.
To underſtand this, we muſt obſerve, that the Luſt of general Praiſe made the per⯑ſon whoſe Character is here ſo admirably drawn, both extravagant and flagitious; his Madneſs was to pleaſe the Fools,
And his Crimes to avoid the cenſure of the Knaves,
Prudence and Honeſty being the two qua⯑lities that Fools and Knaves are moſt in⯑tereſted, and conſequently moſt induſtri⯑ous, to miſrepreſent.
This illuſtration has an exquiſite beauty, ariſing from the exact⯑neſs of the analogy: For as the appear⯑ance of irregularity in a Comet's motion is occaſioned by the greatneſs of the force which puſhes it round a very eccentric orb; ſo it is the violence of the Ruling Paſſion, that, impatient for its object, in the impetuoſity of its courſe towards it, is frequently hurried to an immenſe diſ⯑tance from it, which occaſions all that [20] puzzling inconſiſtency of conduct we ob⯑ſerve in it.
Pride, Vanity, and Ambition are ſuch bor⯑dering and neighbourly vices, and hold ſo much in common, that we generally find them going together, and therefore as generally miſtake them for one another. This does not a little contribute to our confounding Characters; for they are, in reality, very different and diſtinct; ſo much ſo, that 'tis remarkable, the three greateſt men in Rome and contempo⯑raries poſſeſſed each of theſe ſeparately without the leaſt mixture of the other two: The men I mean were Caeſar, Cato, and Cicero; For Caeſar had Ambition without either vanity or pride; Cato had Pride without ambition or vanity; and Cicero had Vanity without pride or am⯑bition.
The ſimilitude is ex⯑tremely appoſite; as moſt of the inſtances he has afterwards given of the vigorous exertion of the Ruling Paſſion in the laſt moments, are from ſuch who had haſtened their death by an immoderate indulgence of that Paſſion.
[21]
An ancient Nobleman, who continued this practice long after his legs were diſabled by the gout. Upon the death of Prince George of Denmark, he demanded an audience of the Queen, to adviſe her to preſerve her health and diſpel her grief by Dancing.
[22]
This ſtory, as well as the others, is founded on fact, tho' the author had the goodneſs not to mention the names. Several attribute this in par⯑ticular to a very celebrated Actreſs, who, in deteſtation of the thought of being bu⯑ried in woollen, gave theſe her laſt orders with her dying breath.
EPISTLE II.
To a LADY.
Of the CHARACTERS of WOMEN.
[]NOTES.
[]The reader perhaps may be diſappointed to find that this Epiſtle, which propoſes the ſame ſubject with the preceding, is conducted on very different rules of method; for inſtead of being diſpoſed in the ſame lo⯑gical connection, and filled with the like philoſophical remarks, it is wholly taken up in drawing a great variety of capital Characters: But if he would reflect, that the two Sexes make but one Spe⯑cies, and conſequently, that the Cha⯑racters of both muſt be ſtudied and ex⯑plained on the ſame principles, he would ſee, that when the poet had done this in the preceding Epiſtle, his buſineſs here was, not to repeat what he had already delivered, but only to verify and illu⯑ſtrate his doctrine, by every view of that perplexity of Nature, which his philoſo⯑phy only can explain. If the reader there⯑fore will but be at the pains to ſtudy theſe Characters with any degree of at⯑tention, as they are here maſterly drawn, one important particular (for which the poet has artfully prepared him by the in⯑troduction) will very forcibly ſtrike his obſervation; and that is, that all the great ſtrokes in the ſeveral Characters of Wo⯑men are not only infinitely perplexed and diſcordant, like thoſe in Men, but abſo⯑lutely inconſiſtent, and in a much higher degree contradictory. As ſtrange as this may appear, yet he will ſee that the poet has all the while ſtrictly follow'd Nature, whoſe ways, we find by the former Epi⯑ſtle [25] are not a little myſterious; and a myſtery this might have remained, had not our author explained it at ℣ 207. where he ſhuts up his Characters with this philoſophical reflexion:
If this account be true, we ſee the per⯑petual neceſſity (which is not the caſe in Men) that Women lye under of diſguiſing their ruling Paſſion. Now the variety of arts employed to this purpoſe muſt needs draw them into infinite contradictions in thoſe Actions from whence their general and obvious Character is denominated: To verify this obſervation, let the reader examine all the Characters here drawn, and try whether with this key he cannot diſcover that all their Contradictions ariſe from a deſire to hide the ruling Paſſion.
But this is not the worſt. The poet afterwards [from ℣ 219 to 248.] takes no⯑tice of another miſchief ariſing from this neceſſity of hiding their ruling Paſſions; which is, that generally the end of each is defeated even there where they are moſt violently purſued: For the neceſſity of hiding them inducing an habitual diſſi⯑pation of mind, Reaſon, whoſe office it is to regulate the ruling Paſſion, loſes all its force and direction; and theſe un⯑happy victims to their principles, tho' with their attention ſtill fixed upon them, are ever proſecuting the means deſtructive of their end, and thus become ridiculous in youth, and miſerable in old age.
Let me not omit to obſerve the great beauty of the concluſion: It is an Enco⯑mium on the Lady to whom the Epiſtle is addreſſed, and artfully turns upon the fact which makes the ſubject of the Epi⯑ſtle, the contradiction of a Woman's Chara⯑cter, in which contradiction he ſhews that all the luſtre of the beſt Character conſiſts.
The poet's purpoſe here is to ſhew, that the Characters of Women are generally in⯑conſiſtent with themſelves; and this he illuſtrates by ſo happy a Similitude, that we ſee the folly, deſcribed in it, ariſes from that very principle which gives birth to this inconſiſtency of Character.
Atti⯑tudes in which ſeveral ladies affected to be drawn, and ſometimes one lady in them all. — The poet's politeneſs and com⯑plaiſance to the ſex is obſervable in this in⯑ſtance, amongſt others, that, whereas in the Characters of Men he has ſometimes made uſe of real names, in the Characters of Women always fictious.
[26] VER. 21. Inſtances of this poſition, given even from ſuch Characters as are moſt ſtrongly mark'd, and ſeemingly therefore moſt conſiſtent: As firſt, Con⯑trarieties in the Affected, ℣ 21, &c.
VER. 29 and 37. II. Contrarieties in the Soft-natured.
[27] VER. 45. III. Contrarieties in the Cunning and Artful.
VER. 53. IV. In the Whimſical.
[28] VER. 69. V. In the Lewd and Vicious.
[29] VER. 87. VI. Contrarieties. in the Witty and Refin'd.
[30]
i. e. Her who affects to laugh out of fa⯑ſhion, and ſtrives to diſbelieve out of fear.
[31]
Alluding and referring to the great principle of his Philoſophy, which he never loſes ſight of, and which [32] teaches, that Providence is inceſſantly turning the evils ariſing from the follies and vices of men to general good.
There is one thing that does a very diſtinguiſhed honour to the accuracy of our poet's judgment, of which, in the courſe of theſe obſervations, I have given many inſtances, and ſhall here ex⯑plain in what it conſiſts; it is this, that the Similitudes in his didactic poems, of which he is not ſparing, and which are highly poetical, are always choſen with ſuch exquiſite diſcernment of Nature, as not only to illuſtrate the particular point he is upon, but to eſtabliſh the general principles he would inforce; ſo, in the inſtance before us, he compares the in⯑conſtancy and contradiction in the Cha⯑racters of Women, to the change of colours in the Chameleon; yet 'tis ne⯑vertheleſs the great principle of this poem to ſhew that the general Characteriſtic of the Sex, as to the Ruling Paſſion, which they all have, is more uniform than that in Man: Now for this purpoſe, all Nature could not have ſupplied ſuch another il⯑luſtration as this of the Chameleon; for tho' it inſtantaneouſly aſſumes much of the colour of every ſubject on which it chances to be placed, yet, as the moſt accurate Virtuoſi have obſerved, it has two native colours of its own, which, amidſt all theſe charges are never totally diſcharged, but, tho' often diſcoloured by the neighbourhood of adventitious ones, ſtill make the foundation, and give a tincture to all thoſe which, from thence, it occaſionally aſſumes.
The purpoſe of the poet in this Character is important: It is to ſhew that the poli⯑tic or prudent government of the paſ⯑ſions is not enough to make a Chara⯑cter amiable, nor even to ſecure it from being ridiculous, if the end of that go⯑vernment be not purſued, which is the free exerciſe of the ſocial appetites after the ſelfiſh ones have been ſubdued; For that if, tho' reaſon govern, the heart be never conſulted, we intereſt ourſelves as little in the fortune of ſuch a Character, as in any of the foregoing, which paſſi⯑ons or caprice drive up and down at ran⯑dom.
[33]
This is intirely iro⯑nical, and conveys under it this general moral truth, that there is, in life, no ſuch thing as a perfect Character; ſo that the ſatyr falls not on any particular Character, but on the Character-maker only.
[34] VER. 198. Mah'met, ſervant to the late King, ſaid to be the ſon of a Turk⯑iſh Baſſa, whom he took at the Siege of Buda, and conſtantly kept about his Perſon.
Ibid. Dr. Stephen Hale, not more eſti⯑mable for his uſeful diſcoveries as a Natural Philoſopher, than for his exemplary Life and Paſtoral Charity as a Pariſh Prieſt.
In the former Editions, between this and the foregoing lines, a want of Con⯑nection might be perceived, occaſion⯑ed by the omiſſion of certain Exam⯑ples and Illuſtrations to the Maxims laid down; and tho' ſome of theſe have ſince been found, viz. the Characters of Philo⯑mede, Atoſſa, Cloe, and ſome verſes fol⯑lowing, others are ſtill wanting, nor can we anſwer that theſe are exactly inſerted.
[35] VER. 207. The former part having ſhewn, that the particular Characters of Women are more various than thoſe of Men, it is nevertheleſs obſerv'd, that the general Characteriſtic of the ſex, as to the ruling Paſſion, is more uniform.
VER. 211. This is occaſioned partly by their Nature, partly their Education, and in ſome degree by Neceſſity.
I can't help obſerving the delicacy of the poet's addreſs in his manner of inform⯑ing us what this Pleaſure is which makes one of the two objects of Woman's rul⯑ing Paſſion. He does it in an ironi⯑cal apology for it, ariſing from its being a Pleaſure of the beneficent and communi⯑cative kind, and not merely ſelfiſh, like thoſe which the other ſex generally pur⯑ſues.
The ironical apology continued: That the Se⯑cond is, as it were, forced upon them by the tyranny and oppreſſion of man, in order to ſecure the firſt.
[36] VER. 219. What are the Aims and the Fate of this Sex? [...] — as to Power.
VER. 231. — As to Pleaſure.
[37] VER. 249. Advice for their true In⯑tereſt.
One of the great beauties ob⯑ſervable in the poet's management of his Similitudes, is the ceremonious prepara⯑tion he makes for them, in gradually raiſing the imagery of the ſimilitude in the lines preceding, by the uſe of me⯑taphors taken from the ſubject of it:
And the civil diſmiſſion he gives them by the continuance of the ſame metaphor, in the lines following, whereby the traces of the imagery gradually decay, and give place to others, and the reader is never of⯑fended with the ſudden or abrupt diſap⯑pearance of it,
[38] VER. 269. The Picture of an eſtimable Woman, with the beſt kind of contrarieties.
[39]
The poet concludes his Epiſtle with a fine Moral, that deſerves the ſerious attention of the public: It is this, that all the ex⯑travagances of theſe vicious Characters here deſcribed, are much inflamed by a wrong Education; and that even the beſt are rather ſecured by a good natural than by the prudence and providence of pa⯑rents; which obſervation is conveyed un⯑der the ſublime claſſical machinery of Phoebus in the aſcendant, watching the natal hour of his favourite, and averting the ill effects of her parents miſtaken fondneſs: For Phoebus, as the god of Wit, confers Genius, and, as one of the aſtronomical influences, defeats the adven⯑titious bias of education.
EPISTLE III.
To ALLEN Lord BATHURST.
[]ARGUMENT.
Of the USE of RICHES.
That it is known to few, moſt falling into one of the extremes, Avarice or Profuſion, ℣ 1, &c. The Point diſcuſs'd, whether the invention of Money has been more commodious, or pernicious to Mankind, ℣ 21 to 77. That Riches, either to the Avaricious or the Prodigal, cannot afford Happineſs, ſcarcely Neceſſaries, ℣ 89 to 160. That Avarice is an abſolute Frenzy, without an End or Purpoſe, ℣ 113 &c. 152. Conjectures about the Motives of Ava⯑ricious men, ℣ 121 to 153. That the conduct of men, with reſpect to Riches, can only be accounted for by the ORDER OF PROVIDENCE, which works the general Good out of Extremes, and brings all to its great End by perpetual Re⯑volutions, ℣ 161 to 178. How a Miſer acts upon Principles which appear to him reaſonable, ℣ 179. How a Prodigal does the ſame, ℣ 199. The due Medium, and true uſe of Riches, ℣ 219. The Man of Roſs, ℣ 250. The fate of the Profuſe and the Covetous, in two examples; both miſerable in Life and in Death, ℣ 300, &c. The Story of Sir Balaam, ℣ 339 to the end.
COMMENTARY.
[]The addreſs of the Introduction [from ℣ 1 to 21.] is remarkable: The poet repreſents-himſelf and the noble Lord his friend, as in a converſation, philoſophiſing on the final cauſe of Riches: [41] You (ſays our author)
As much as to ſay, ‘"You, my Lord, hold the ſubject we are upon as fit only for Satyr; I, on the contrary, eſteem it a caſe of Philoſophy and profound Ethics: But as we both agree in the main Principle, that Riches were not given for the re⯑ward of Virtue, but for very different purpoſes [See Eſſay on Man, Ep. IV.] let us [42] compromiſe the matter, and conſider the ſubject jointly, both under your idea and mine, i. e. Satyrically and Philoſophically."’ — And this, in fact, we ſhall find to be the true character of this poem, which is a Species peculiar to itſelf, and partaking equally of the nature of his Ethic Epiſtles and his Satyrs, as the beſt pieces of Lucian aroſe from a combination of the Dialogues of Plato, and the Scenes of Ariſto⯑phanes. This it will be neceſſary to carry with us, if we would ſee either the Wit or the Reaſoning of this Epiſtle in their true light.
Having thus ſettled the terms of the Debate, before he comes to the main Queſtion, the Uſe of Riches, it was neceſſary to diſcuſs a [43] previous one, whether indeed they are upon the whole, uſeful to mankind or not; [which he does from ℣ 20 to 77.] It is commonly obſerved, ſays he [from ℣ 21 to 35.] That Gold moſt commodiouſly ſupplies the wants of Nature: ‘"Let us firſt conſider the propoſition in general, both in Matter and Expreſſion; 1. As it regards the Supply; and this we ſhall find to be very unequal: 2. As it regards the Wants; and theſe, we ſhall ſee, are very ambiguous; under that term, all our fantaſtic and imaginary as well as real wants being comprized. Hitherto the uſe is not very apparent. Let us in the ſecond place, therefore, conſider the propoſition in particular, or how Gold ſupplies the wants of Nature both in private and public life: 1. As to private; [44] it aids us, indeed, to ſupport life; but it, at the ſame times, hires the aſſaſſin: 2. As to Society; it may procure Friendſhips and extend Trade; but it allures Rob⯑bers and corrupts our acquaintance. 3. As to Government; it pays the Guards ne⯑ceſſary for the ſupport of public liberty; but it may, with the ſame eaſe, bribe a Senate to overturn it."’
The matter therefore being thus problematical, the poet, inſtead of formally ba⯑lancing between the Good and Ill, chuſes to leave this previous Queſtion undetermined, (as Tacitus had done before him; where, ſpeaking of the ancient Germans, he ſays, Argentum et aurum propitii aut irati Dii negaverint dubito;) and falls at once upon what he eſteems the principal of theſe abuſes, public Corruption.
[45] For having in the laſt inſtance, of the Uſe of Riches in Government, ſpoken of ve⯑nal Senates, he goes on to lament the miſchief as deſperate and remedileſs; Gold, by its power to corrupt with Secrecy, defeating all the efforts of public Spirit, whe⯑ther exerted in the Courage of Heroes, or in the Wiſdom of Patriots.
'Tis true indeed, continues the poet [from ℣ 34 to 51.] the very weight of the Bribery has ſometimes detected the Corruption:
But this inconvenience was ſoon repaired, by the invention of Paper credit: Whoſe dreadful effects on public Liberty he deſcribes in all the colouring of his poetry, heightened by the warmeſt concern for virtue; which now makes him willing to give up, as it were, the previous queſtion, in a paſſionate wiſh [from ℣ 49 to 59.] for the return of that incumbrance attendant on public Corruption, before the ſo common uſe of money.
And pleaſed with this flattering Idea, he goes on [from ℣ 58 to 77.] to ſhew the other advantages that would accrue from Riches only in kind; which are, that neither Avarice could contrive to hoard, nor Prodigality to laviſh, in ſo mad and boundleſs a manner as they do at preſent. Here he ſhews particularly, in a fine ironical deſcri⯑ption of the embarras on Gaming, how effectually it would eradicate that execrable practice.
But this whole Digreſſion [from ℣ 34 to 79.] has another very uncommon beauty; [46] for, at the ſame time that it ariſes naturally from the laſt conſideration in the debate of the previous Queſtion, it artfully denounces, in our entrance on the main Queſtion, the principal topics intended to be employed for the dilucidation of it, namely AVA⯑RICE, PROFUSION, and PUBLIC CORRUPTION.
[48]
Having thus ironically deſcribed the incumbrance which the want of money would occaſion to all criminal exceſſes in the uſe of Riches, particularly to Gaming, which being now become of public con⯑cern, he affects much regard to:
he concludes the previous Queſtion without deciding it, in the ſame ironical manner,
That is, ſince for theſe great purpoſes we muſt have Money, let us now ſeriouſly in⯑quire into its true Uſe.
He examines therefore in the firſt place [from ℣ 80 to 99.] I. Of what Uſe Riches are to ourſelves.
The mere turn of the expreſſion here ſhews, without further reaſoning, that all the infinite ways of ſpending on ourſelves, contrived in the inſolence of Wealth, by thoſe who would more than live, are only theſe three things diverſified throughout every wea⯑ried mode of Luxury and Wantonneſs.
Yet as little as this is, adds the poet, [from ℣ 81 to 85.] it is only to be had by the moderate uſe of Riches; Avarice and Profuſion not allowing the poſſeſſors of the moſt exorbitant wealth even this little:
But what is it you would expect them to give? continues the poet [from ℣ 84 to 91.] Would you have them capable of reſtoring thoſe real bleſſings, which men have loſt by their Vices or their Villanies; or of ſatisfying thoſe imaginary ones, which they have gotten by their irregular Appetites and Paſſions; theſe, ſure, the bad or fooliſh man can⯑not [49] have the face to demand; and thoſe, by the wiſe proviſion of Nature, Riches are incapable of giving if he had.
But now admit, purſues our author [from ℣ 90 to 97.] that wealth might, in ſome caſes alleviate the unmerited miſeries of life, by procuring medicines both for the mind and body; yet it is not to be thought it ſhould operate like a charm, while only worn about one: Yet this, theſe poor men of pelf expect from it, while Avarice, on the one hand, witholds them from giving at all, even to the Doctor in extremity; or Vanity diverts the donation from a Friend in life, to the Endowment of a Cat or College at their death. It is true, Riches might give the greateſt of all bleſſings, a virtuous con⯑ſciouſneſs of our having employ'd them as became the ſubſtitutes of Providence,
in acts of BENEFICENCE and CHARITY; and this Uſe is next to be conſidered.
[50]
For now the poet comes, in the Second place, to examine, II. Of what uſe Riches are to others; which he teaches, as is his way through⯑out this poem, by the abuſe that ſtands oppoſed to it: Thus he ſhews [from ℣ 96 to 107.] that with regard to acts of Beneficence, the utmoſt Heaven will grant to thoſe who ſo greatly abuſe its bleſſings, is either to enrich ſome favourite Baſtard, and ſo perpetuate their vice and infamy; or elſe, contrary to their intent, a legitimate Son they hated, and ſo expoſe to public ſcorn and ridicule, the defeat of their unnatural cru⯑elty. But with regard to acts of Charity, they are given up to ſo reprobate a ſenſe, as to believe they are then ſeconding the deſigns of Heaven, when they purſue the indigent with imprecations, or leave them in the midſt of their diſtreſſes unrelieved, as the common enemies of God and Man.
[51]
Having thus ſhewn the true uſe of Riches in a deſcription of the abuſe, and how that uſe is perpetually defeated by Profuſion and Avarice, it was natural to enquire into the ſpring and original of theſe vices; as the abuſe they occaſion, muſt be well underſtood, before it can be corrected. The diſpoſition, therefore, of his ſubject now calls upon him to come to the Philo⯑ſophy of it: And he examines particularly into the Motives of Avarice: But what is very obſervable, he, all along, ſatyrically, intermixes with the real motives, ſeveral imaginary; and thoſe as wild as imagination could conceive. This, which at firſt ſight might ſeem to vitiate the purpoſe of his philoſophical inquiry, is found, when duly con⯑ſidered, to have the higheſt art of deſign. His buſineſs, the reader ſees, was to prove that the real motives had the higheſt extravagancy: Nothing could more conduce to this end, than the ſetting them by, and comparing them with, the moſt extravagant that the fancy itſelf could invent; in which ſituation it was ſeen, that the real were full as wild as the fictitious. To give theſe images all the force they were capable of, he firſt deſcribes [from ℣ 118 to 123.] the real and a different imaginary motive in [52] the ſame perſon: and then [from ℣ 122 to 133.] an imaginary one, and a real, the very ſame with the imaginary in different perſons. This addreſs the poet himſelf alludes to ℣ 155.
Let me obſerve, that this has ſtill a further beauty, ariſing from the nature of the poem, which (as we have ſhewn) is partly ſatyrical, and partly philoſophical.—With regard to the particular beauties of this diſpoſition, I ſhall only take notice of one; where the poet introduces the fictitious motive of Blunt's avarice, by a wizard's pro⯑phecy:
For it was the poet's purpoſe, in this poem, to ſhew, that the main and principal abuſe of Riches ariſes from AVARICE.
[55]
But now the Sage, who has confined himſelf to books, which preſcribe the government of the paſſions; and never looked out upon the world, where he might ſee them let looſe, and, like Milton's devils, riding the air in whirlwind, cries out, all this is madneſs. True, replies the poet [from ℣ 151 to 177.] but this madneſs is a common one, and only to be prevented by a ſevere attention to the rule laid down in the Eſſay,
for with the generality of men, and without the greateſt circumſpection,
But then (continues he) as wild as this paſſion appears by the ſway of its overbearing bias, it would be ſtill more ſenſeleſs had it no bias at all. You have ſeen us here intermix with the real, the moſt fantaſtical and extravagant that imagination could form; yet even theſe are leſs extravagant than a ruling Paſſion without a conſtant aim. Would you know the reaſon? then liſten to this important truth: ‘"'Tis HEAVEN itſelf that gives the ruling Paſſion, and thereby directs different men to different ends: But theſe being exerted thro' the miniſtry of NATURE (of whom the great Bacon truly obſerves, modum tenere neſcia eſt, Aug. Scient. l. ii. c. 13.) they are very apt to run into extremes: To correct which, Heaven, at the ſame time, added the moderatrix Reaſon; not to take the ruling Paſſion out of the hands and miniſtry of Nature, but to reſtrain and rectify its irregular impulſes [See Eſſay, Ep. ii. ℣ 151, & ſeq.] and what extremes, after this, remained uncorrected in the adminiſtration of [56] this weak Queen [℣ 140. Ep. ii.] The divine artiſt himſelf has, in his heavenly ſkill and bounty ſet to rights; by ſo ordering, that theſe of the moral, like thoſe of the natural world, ſhould, even by the very means of their contrariety and di⯑verſity, concur to defeat the malignity of one another: Extremes in Nature equal good produce, Extremes in Man concur to gen'ral uſe. "For as the various ſeaſons of the year are ſupported and ſuſtained by the reconciled extremes of Wet and Dry, Cold and Heat; ſo all the orders and degrees of civil life are kept up, by Avarice and Profuſion, Selfiſhneſs and Vanity. The Miſer be⯑ing but the Steward of the Prodigal; and only ſo much the more backward as the other is violent and precipitate."This year a Reſervoir to keep and ſpare, The next a Fountain ſpouting thro' his heir.’
[57]
The poet now proceeds to ſupport the principles of his Philoſophy by examples: But before we come to theſe, it will be neceſſary to look back upon the general ceconomy of the poem.
In the firſt part [to ℣ 109.] the uſe and abuſe of Riches are ſatyrically delivered in precept. From thence, to ℣ 177. the cauſes of the abuſe are philoſophically inquired into: And from thence to the end, the uſe and abuſe are hiſtorically illuſtrated in ex⯑amples. Where we may obſerve, that the concluſion of the firſt part, concerning the Miſer's cruelty to others, naturally introduces the ſecond, by a ſatyrical apology, ſhew⯑ing that he is full as cruel to himſelf: The explanation of which extraordinary phe⯑nomenon brings the author into the Philoſophy of his ſubject; and this ending in an obſervation of Avarice and Profuſion's correcting and reconciling one another, as naturally introduces the third, which proves the truth of the obſervation from fact. And thus the Philoſophy of his ſubject ſtanding between his Precepts and Examples, gives ſtrength and light to both, and receives it reflected back again from both.
He firſt gives us two examples [from ℣ 176 to 219.] of theſe oppoſite ruling Paſ⯑ſions, and (to ſee them in their full force) taken from ſubjects, as he tells us, not void of wit or worth; from ſuch as could reaſon themſelves [as we ſee by ℣ 183, & ſeqq. and ℣ 205, & ſeqq.] into the whole length of each extreme: For the poet had ob⯑ſerved of the ruling Paſſion, that
Old Cotta therefore and his Son afforded him the moſt happy illuſtration of his own doctrine.
[59]
Having now largely expoſed the ABUSE of Riches by example, not only the Plan, but the Philoſophy of his Poem, required, that he ſhould in the ſame way, ſhew the USE likewiſe: He therefore calls for an example, in which may be found, againſt the Prodigal, the Senſe to value [60] Riches; againſt the Vain, the Art to enjoy them; and againſt the Avaricious, the Vir⯑tue to impart them, when acquired. This whole Art (he tells us) may be comprized in one great and general precept, which is this, ‘"That the rich man ſhould con⯑ſider himſelf as the ſubſtitute of Providence in this unequal diſtribution of things; as the perſon who is To eaſe, or emulate, the care of Heav'n; To mend the faults of fortune, or to juſtify her graces."’ And thus the poet ſlides naturally into the proſecution of his ſubject in an Example of the true Uſe of Riches.
[62]
This invidious expreſſion of the poet's unwillingneſs that the Nobility ſhould ingroſs all his praiſes, is ſtrongly ironical; their example having been given hitherto only to ſhew the abuſe of Riches. But there is great juſtneſs of Deſign, as well as agreeable⯑neſs of Manner in the preference here given to the Man of Roſs. The purpoſe of the poet is to ſhew, that an immenſe fortune is not wanted for all the good that Riches are capable of doing; he therefore chuſes ſuch an inſtance, as proves, that a man with five hundred pounds a year could become a bleſſing to a whole country; and, con⯑ſequently, that the poet's precepts for the true uſe of money, are of more general ſer⯑vice than a bad heart will give an indifferent head leave to conceive. This was a truth of the greateſt importance to inculcate: He therefore [from ℣ 249 to 297.] exalts the character of a very private man, one Mr. J. Kyrle, of Herefordſhire: And, in end⯑ing his deſcription, ſtruck as it were with admiration at a ſublimity of his own crea⯑ting, and warmed with ſentiments of a Gratitude he had raiſed in himſelf in behalf of the public, the poet burſts out,
Then, tranſported with indignation at a contrary object, he exclaims,
I take notice of this deſcription of the portentous vanity of a miſerable extortioner, chiefly for the uſe we ſhall now ſee he makes of it, in carrying on his ſubject.
[65]
In the firſt part of this Epiſtle the author had ſhewn, from Reaſon, that Riches abuſed afford no comfort either in life or death. In this part, where the ſame truth is taught by examples, he had, in the caſe of Cotta and his ſon, ſhewn, that they afford no com⯑fort in life: the other member of the diviſion remained to be ſpoken to,
And this he illuſtrates [from ℣ 299 to 339.] in deſcribing the unhappy deaths of the laſt Villers, Duke of Buckingham, and Sir J. Cutler; whoſe profuſion and avarice he has beautifully contraſted. The miſerable end of theſe two extraordinary perſons na⯑turally leads the poet into this humane reflexion, however ludicrouſly expreſſed,
And now, as if fully determined to reſolve this doubtful queſtion, he aſſumes the air [66] and importance of a Profeſſor ready addreſs'd to plunge himſelf into the very depths of theology:
when, on a ſudden, the whole ſcene is changed,
And thus, by the moſt eaſy tranſition, we are come to the concluding doctrine of his poem.
[69]
For, the foregoing examples of proſu⯑ſion and avarice having been given to ſhew, that miſapplied wealth was not enjoyed, it only remained to prove, that in ſuch circumſtances wealth became the heavieſt pu⯑niſhment; and this was the very point to be concluded with, as the great MORAL of this inſtructive poem; which is to teach us, how miſerable men make themſelves by not endeavouring to reſtrain the ruling Paſſion, tho' it be indeed implanted in the conſtitution of things; while, at the ſame time it is an anſwer to the latter part of the queſtion,
For the ſolution of which only, this example was jocularly pretended to have been given.
All this the poet has admirably ſupported, in the artful conſtruction of his fable of Sir Balaam, whoſe character is ſo drawn, as to let the reader ſee he had it in his power to regulate the ruling Paſſion by reaſon, as having in himſelf the ſeeds of Integrity, Religion, and Sobriety. Theſe are gradually worked out by an inſatiable thirſt of Wealth; and this again (thro' a falſe ſenſe of his own abilities in acquiring it) ſucceeded by as immoderate a Vanity. Let me only obſerve farther, that the author, in this Tale, has artfully ſummed up and recapitulated thoſe three principal miſchiefs in the abuſe of money, which the ſatyrical part of this poem throughout was employed to expoſe, namely, AVARICE, PROFUSION, and PUBLIC CORRUPTION.
NOTES.
[41]A word ſacred to controverſy and high debate.
VER. 20. JOHN WARD of Hackney Eſq. Member of Parliament, being ſecuted by the Ducheſs of Buckingham, and convicted of Forgery, was firſt ex⯑pelled [42] the Houſe, and then ſtood in the Pillory on the 17th of March 1727. He was ſuſpected of joining in a conveyance with Sir John Blunt, to ſecrete fifty thou⯑ſand pounds of that Director's Eſtate, forfeited to the South Sea company by Act of Parliament. The Company re⯑covered the fifty thouſand pounds againſt Ward; but he ſet up prior convey⯑ances of his real eſtate to his brother and ſon, and conceal'd all his perſonal, which was computed to be one hundred and fifty thouſand pounds: Theſe convey⯑ances being alſo ſet aſide by a bill in Chan⯑cery, Ward was impriſoned, and hazard⯑ed the forfeiture of his life, by not giving in his effects till the laſt day, which was that of his examination. During his con⯑ſinement, his amuſement was to give poi⯑ſon to dogs and cats, and ſee them expire by flower or quicker torments. To ſum up the worth of this gentleman, at the ſeveral aera's of his life; at his ſtanding in the Pillory he was worth above two hun⯑dred thouſand pounds; at his commitment to Priſon, he was worth one hundred and fifty thouſand, but has been ſince ſo far diminiſhed in his reputation, as to be thought a worſe man by fifty or ſixty thou⯑ſand.
FR. CHARTRES, a man infamous for all manner of vices. When he was an enſign in the army, he was drumm'd out of the regiment for a cheat; he was next baniſh'd Bruſſels, and drumm'd out of Ghent on the ſame account. After a hun⯑dred tricks at the gaming-tables, he took to lending of money at exorbitant intereſt and on great penalties, accumulating pre⯑mium, intereſt, and capital into a new capital, and ſeizing to a minute when the payments became due; in a word, by a conſtant attention to the vices, wants, and follies of mankind, he acquired an immenſe fortune. His houſe was a per⯑petual bawdy-houſe. He was twice con⯑demn'd for rapes, and pardoned; but the laſt time not without impriſonment in Newgate, and large confiſcations. He died in Scotland in 1731, aged 62. The [43] populace at his funeral rais'd a great riot, almoſt tore the body out of the coffin, and caſt dead dogs, &c. into the grave along with it. The following Epitaph contains his character very juſtly drawn by Dr. Ar⯑buthnot:
This Gentleman was worth ſeven thou⯑ſand pounds a year eſtate in Land, and about one hundred thouſand in Money.
Mr. WATERS, the third of theſe wor⯑thies, was a man no way reſembling the former in his military, but extremely ſo in his civil capacity; his great fortune having been rais'd by the like diligent at⯑tendance on the neceſſities of others. But this gentleman's hiſtory muſt be deferred till his death, when his worth may be known more certainly.
The epithet commo⯑dious gives us the very proper idea of a Bawd or Pander; and this thought pro⯑duced the two following lines, which were in all the former editions,
[45]
This is a true ſtory which hap⯑pened in the reign of William III. to an unſuſpected old Patriot, who coming out at the back-door from having been clo⯑ſeted by the King, where he had received a large bag of Guineas, the burſting of the bag diſcovered his buſineſs there.
[46]
In our author's time, many Princes had been ſent about the world, and great changes of Kings projected in Europe. The par⯑tition-treaty had diſpos'd of Spain; France had ſet up a King for England, who was ſent to Scotland, and back again; King Staniſlaus was ſent to Poland, and back again; the Duke of Anjou was ſent to Spain, and Don Carlos to Italy.
Alludes to ſeveral Miniſters, Counſellors, and Patriots baniſhed in our times to Siberia, and to that MORE GLO⯑RIOUS FATE of the PARLIAMENT of PARIS, baniſhed to Pontoiſe in the year 1720.
[47] VER. 63. Some Miſers of great wealth, proprietors of the coal-mines, had enter'd at this time into an aſſociation to keep up coals to an extravagant price, whereby the poor were reduced almoſt to ſtarve, till one of them taking the advantage of underſelling the reſt, defeated the deſign. One of theſe Miſers was worth ten thou⯑ſand, another ſeven thouſand a year.
Sir WILLIAM COLEPEPPER, Bart. a perſon of an an⯑cient family, and ample fortune, without one other quality of a Gentleman, who, after ruining himſelf at the Gaming-table, paſt the reſt of his days in ſitting there to ſee the ruin of others; preferring to ſub⯑ſiſt upon borrowing and begging, rather than to enter into any reputable method of life, and refuſing a poſt in the army which was offer'd him.
[49]
One, who being poſſeſſed of three hundred thouſand pounds, laid down his Coach, becauſe Intereſt was reduced from five to four per cent. and then put ſeventy thouſand into the Chari⯑table Corporation for better intereſt; which ſum having loſt, he took it ſo much to heart, that he kept his chamber ever after. It is thought he would not have outliv'd it, but that he was heir to ano⯑ther conſiderable eſtate, which he daily expected, and that by this couſe of life he ſav'd both cloaths and all other ex⯑pences.
A No⯑bleman of great qualities, but as unfor⯑tunate in the application of them, as if they had been vices and follies. See his Character in the firſt Epiſtle.
A Citizen, whoſe rapacity obtain'd him the name of Vultur Hopkins. He lived worthleſs, but died worth three hundred thouſand pounds, which he would give to no perſon living, but left it ſo as not to be inherited till after the ſecond generation. His counſel re⯑preſenting to him how many years it muſt be, before this could take effect, and that his money could only lie at intereſt all that time, he expreſt great joy thereat, and ſaid, ‘"They would then be as long in ſpending, as he had been in getting it."’ But the Chancery afterwards ſet aſide the will, and gave it to the heir at law.
[50] JAPHET CROOK, alias Sir Peter Stranger, was puniſhed with the loſs of thoſe parts, for having forged a conveyance of an E⯑ſtate to himſelf, upon which he took up ſeveral thouſand pounds. He was at the ſame time ſued in Chancery for having fraudulently obtain'd a Will, by which he poſſeſs'd another conſiderable Eſtate, in wrong of the brother of the deceas'd. By theſe means he was worth a great ſum, which (in reward for the ſmall loſs of his ears) he enjoy'd in priſon till his death, and quietly left to his executor.
A famous Ducheſs of R. in her laſt will left conſiderable legacies and an⯑nuities to her Cats.
[51]
This epiſtle was written in the year 1730, when a corporation was eſtabliſhed to lend money to the poor upon pledges, by the name of the Charitable Corporation; but the whole was turned only to an iniqui⯑tous method of enriching particular peo⯑ple, to the ruin of ſuch numbers, that it became a parliamentary concern to en⯑deavour the relief of thoſe unhappy ſuf⯑ferers, and three of the managers, who were members of the houſe, were ex⯑pelled. That ‘"God hates the poor,"’ and ‘"That every man in want is knave or fool,"’ &c. were the genuine apo⯑thegms of ſome of the perſons here men⯑tioned.
[52]
In the extravagance and luxury of the South-ſea year, the price of a haunch of Veniſon was from three to five pounds.
Many people about the year 1733, had a conceit [53] that ſuch a thing was intended, of which it is not improbable this lady might have ſome intimation.
PETER WAL⯑TER, a perſon not only eminent in the wiſdom of his profeſſion, as a dextrous attorney, but allow'd to be a good, if not a ſafe, conveyancer; extremely reſpected by the Nobility of this land, tho' free from all manner of luxury and oftenta⯑tion: his Wealth was never ſeen, and his bounty never heard of, except to his own ſon, for whom he procur'd an employ⯑ment of conſiderable profit, of which he gave him as much as was neceſſary. There⯑fore the taxing this gentleman with any Ambition, is certainly a great wrong to him.
A Roman Lawyer, ſo rich as to purchaſe the Empire when it was ſet to ſale upon the death of Pertinax.
The two perſons here mentioned were of Quality, each of whom in the Miſſiſippi deſpis'd to realize above three hundred thouſand pounds; the Gentleman with a view to the purchaſe of the Crown of Po⯑land, the Lady on a viſion of the like royal nature. They ſince retired into Spain, where they are ſtill in ſearch of of gold in the mines of the Aſturies.
Sir JOHN BLUNT, originally a ſcrivener, was one of the firſt projectors of the South⯑ſea company, and afterwards one of the directors and chief managers of the fa⯑mous ſcheme in 1720. He was alſo one [54] of thoſe who ſuffer'd moſt ſeverely by the bill of pains and penalties on the ſaid di⯑rectors. He was a Diſſenter of a moſt religious deportment, and profeſs'd to be a great believer. Whether he did really credit the prophecy here mentioned is not certain, but it was conſtantly in this very ſtyle he declaimed againſt the corruption and luxury of the age, the partiality of Parliaments, and the miſery of party-ſpi⯑rit. He was particularly eloquent againſt Avarice in great and noble perſons, of which he had indeed liv'd to ſee many miſerable examples. He died in the year 1732.
The ſimilitude is extremely appoſite, im⯑plying that this vice is of baſe and mean original; hatched and nurſed up amongſt Scriveners, Stock-jobbers, and Citts; and unknown, 'till of late, to the Nobles of this land: But now, in the fulneſs of time, ſhe rears her head, and aſpires to cover the moſt illuſtrious ſtations in her dark and peſtilential ſhade. The Sun, and other luminaries of Heaven, ſigni⯑fying, in the high eaſtern ſtyle, the Gran⯑dees and Nobles of the earth.
[57]
— dapibus menſas onerabat inemptis. VIRG.
[58]
The poet is here ſpeaking only of the knowledge gained by experience. Now there are ſo many miſerable examples of ill conduct, that no one, with his eyes open, can be at a loſs to know what to ſhun; but, very inviting examples of a good conduct are extremely rare: Beſides, the miſ⯑chiefs of folly are eminent and obvious; but the fruits of prudence, remote and retired from common obſervation; and if ſeen at all, yet their dependence on their cauſe not being direct and immediate, they are not eaſily underſtood.
This, tho' a certain truth, will, as I predict, never make its fortune in the City! yet, for all that, the poet has fully approved his maxim in the following de⯑ſcription.
[59]
Our author repreſents this, as it truly was deſigned, a Sacrifice to the Church, to render it propitious in a time of danger to the State.
The Senſe to value Riches, is not, in the City-meaning, the Senſe in valuing them: [60] For as Riches may be enjoyed without Art, and imparted without Virtue, ſo they may be valued without Senſe. That man there⯑fore only ſhews he has the Senſe to value Riches, who keeps what he has acquired, in order to enjoy one part of it innocently and elegantly, in ſuch meaſure and de⯑gree as his ſtation may juſtify, which the poet calls the Art of enjoying; and to impart the remainder amongſt objects of worth, or want well weigh'd; which is, indeed, the Virtue of imparting.
i. e. Such of the Rich, whoſe full mea⯑ſure overflows on human race, repair the wrongs of Fortune done to the indigent, and, at the ſame time, juſtify the favours ſhe had beſtowed upon themſelves.
[61]
Edward Harley, Earl of Oxford. The ſon of Robert, created Earl of Oxford and Earl Mortimer by Queen Anne. This Nobleman died regretted by all men of letters, great numbers of whom had ex⯑perienc'd his benefits. He left behind him one of the moſt noble Libraries in Europe.
This is exceedingly ſublime—The ſenſe of it ariſes from what had been ſaid a little before of ſuch a character's juſtifying the graces of Fortune; which made it, there⯑fore, but reaſonable to expect ſhe ſhould continue them. But the more conſtant theſe were, the more need had he of ſome ſuperior aſſiſtance to keep him in the gol⯑den mean. Which the ancients ſeem'd ſo well appriſed of, that they gave to every man two Guardian Angels (here alluded to) as if, without ſtanding on either ſide of him, he could not poſſibly be kept long in the mean or middle.
[62]
The perſon here celebrated, who with a ſmall Eſtate actually performed all theſe good works, and whoſe true name was almoſt loſt (partly by the title of the Man of Roſs given him by way of eminence, and partly by being buried without ſo much as an inſcription) was called Mr. John Kyrle. He died in the year 1724, aged 90, and lies interr'd in the chancel of the church of Roſs in Hereſordſhire.
[63]
The intimation, in the firſt line, well ridi⯑cules the madneſs of faſhionable Magnifi⯑cence, theſe columns aſpiring to prop the ſkies, in a very different ſenſe from the heav'n-directed ſpire, in the verſe that follows: As the expreſſion, in the ſecond line, expoſes the meanneſs of it, in falling proudly to no purpoſe.
[64]
Theſe four lines, (which the poet, with the higheſt propriety, puts into the mouth of his noble friend,) very artfully introduce the two following, as by the equivocal expreſſion they raiſe our expectations to hear of millions, which come out, at laſt, to be only five hundred pounds a year. A circumſtance, as we ſee in the Com⯑ment, of great importance to be incul⯑cated.
In this ſublime apoſtrophe, they are not bid to bluſh becauſe outſtript in virtue, for no ſuch contention is ſuppoſed: but for being outſhined in their own proper pretenſions to Splendour and Magnifi⯑cence.
The Pariſh-regiſter.
[65]
The deſcription is inimitable. We ſee him ſhould'ring the altar like one who im⯑piouſly affected to draw off the reverence of God's worſhippers, from the ſacred table, upon himſelf; whoſe Features too the ſculptor had belied by giving them the traces of humanity: And, what was ſtill a more impudent flattery, had inſinuated, by extending his hands, as if that humanity had been ſometime or other brought into act.
The poet ridicules the wretch⯑ed taſte of carving large perriwigs on buſto's, of which there are ſeveral vile examples in the tombs at Weſtminſter and elſewhere.
It is remarkable, that, in the deſ⯑cription [66] of the ſcene of action, in ſeveral parts of this poem, the poet's imagination has painted with ſuch truth and ſpirit, that one would believe he had been upon the ſpot, whereas he only hit upon what was, from a clear exception of what was natu⯑ral to be.
This Lord, yet more famous for his vices than. his miſfortunes, after having been poſ⯑ſeſs'd of about 50,000 l. pound a year, and paſt thro' many of the higheſt poſts in the kingdom, died in the year 1687, in a remote inn in Yorkſhire, reduc'd to the utmoſt miſery.
A delightful pa⯑lace, on the banks of the Thames, built by the Duke of Buckingham.
The Counteſs of Shrewſbury, a woman abandon'd to gallantries. The Earl her huſband was kill'd by the Duke of Buckingham in a duel; and it has been ſaid, that during the combat ſhe held the Duke's horſes in the habit of a page.
That is, he had a greater gout for oblique and diſguiſed flattery than for the more direct and bare-faced. And no wonder in a man of wit. For the taking pleaſure in fools, for the ſake of laughing at them, is nothing elſe but the compliſance of flattering ourſelves, by an advantageous compariſon which the mind, in that emotion, makes between itſelf and the object laughed at. Hence too we may ſee the Reaſon of mens preferring this kind of flattery to others. For we are always inclined to think that work beſt done which we do ourſelves.
The term implies the dif⯑ficulty he had to get the better of all theſe incumbrances. And it is true, as his hiſtory informs us, he had the impedi⯑ment of good parts, which, from time to time, hindered a little, and retarded his conqueſts
The poet did well in appealing to Reaſon, from the parties concerned; who, it is likely, had made but a very ſorry de⯑ciſion. The abhorrence of an empty purſe would have certainly perverted the judg⯑ment of Want, with a full one: And the longings for a full one would probably have as much miſled Want, with an empty one. Whereas reaſon reſolves this matter in a trice. There being a poſſibility that Want with an empty purſe may be relieved; but none, that Want with a full purſe ever can.
This is to be underſtood as a ſolemn evocation of the ſhade of this illu⯑ſtrious knight, in the manner of the an⯑cients; who uſed to call up their de⯑parted heroes by two things they princi⯑pally loved and deteſted, as the moſt po⯑tent of all charms. Hence this Sage is conjured by the powerful mention of a full, and of an empty purſe.
[68]
There is a greater beauty in this compariſon than the common reader is aware of. Brutus was, in morals at leaſt, a Stoic, like his uncle. And how much addicted to that ſect in general, ap⯑pears from his profeſſing himſelf of the old academy, and being a moſt paſſonate admirer of Antiochus Aſcalonites, an eſſen⯑tial Stoic, if ever there was any. Now Stoical virtue was, as our author truly tells us, not exerciſe, but apathy.—Contracted all, retiring to the breaſt. In a word, like Sir J. Culter's purſe; nothing for uſe, but kept cloſe ſhut, and centred all with⯑in himſelf.—Now virtue and wealth thus circumſtanced, are indeed no other than mere names.
The Monument, built in memory of the fire of London, with an inſcription, im⯑porting that city to have been burnt by the Papiſts.
Tho' Scriblerus is not in⯑ſenſible to the humour of this line; yet his gravity makes him wiſh that the City-monument had been honour'd with a com⯑pariſon of more dignity. He thinks, par⯑ticularly, it ſhould rather have been com⯑pared to the Court-champion; as, like him, it only ſpoke the ſenſe of the Govern⯑ment; which, at that time, no man could have denied without the danger of a challenge — of Jury, at leaſt: When, as a great writer obſerves, a jealouſy of Popery heated the minds of men to ſuch a degree, that it ſeems almoſt wonderful the Plague was not imputed to the Papiſts as peremptorily as the Fire. Diſſ upon Par⯑ties.
[70]
The author has placed the ſcene of theſe ſhipwrecks in Cornwall, not only from their frequency on that coaſt, but from the inhumanity of the inhabitants to thoſe to whom that misfortune arrives: When a ſhip happens to be ſtranded there, they have been known to bore holes in it, to prevent its getting off; to plunder, and ſometimes even to maſſacre the people: Nor has the the Parliament of England been yet able wholly to ſuppreſs theſe barbarities.
The poet had obſerved above, that when the luxu⯑riouſly ſelfiſh had got more than they knew how to uſe, they would try to do more than live; inſtead of imparting the leaſt pittance of it to thoſe whom fortune had reduced to do leſs than live: The Vanity of which chimerical project he well expoſed in theſe lines:
But here, in one who had not yet learnt the art of diſguiſing the Poverty of Wealth by the Refinements of Luxury, he ſhews, with admirable humour, the ridicule of it,
[71]
This is an ad⯑mirable picture of human nature: In the entrance on life, all, but coxcombs born, are uſually modeſt, and eſteem the fa⯑vours of their ſuperiors as marks of their benevolence: But, if theſe favours hap⯑pen to increaſe, inſtead of advancing in gratitude to our benefactors, we only im⯑prove in the good opinion of ourſelves; and the conſtant returns of them make us conſider them no longer as accommo⯑dations to our wants, or obligations for our ſervice, but debts due to our merit: Yet, at the ſame time, to do juſtice to our nature, let us obſerve, that this does not proceed ſo often from downright vice as is imagined (when it does, the vice is bad indeed) but frequently from mere infirmity; and then too the reaſon is evi⯑dent, for, having ſmall knowledge of, and yet exceſſive fondneſs for ourſelves, we eſtimate our merit by the opinion of others: and this perhaps would not be much amiſs, were we not apt to take their favours for a declaration of their o⯑pinion. How many, for inſtance, do we ſee in every faculty of the learned pro⯑feſſions, who, had they continued in their primeval meanneſs, had lived and died [72] as wiſe even as Socrates himſelf, that is, with the confeſſion of their knowing no⯑thing; yet, being puſh'd up, as the pro⯑per phraſe is, have, in the rapidity of their courſe, imagined they ſaw, at every new ſtation, a new door of ſcience open⯑ing to them, without ſtaying ſo much as for a flatterer to let them in?
—atque unum civem donare Sibyllae.
[73]
This is to be underſtood in a very ſober and decent ſenſe, as a ſatyr only on the ſeverity of the laws of forfeiture of lands for High-treaſon, which has been known abroad ſometimes to make Mini⯑ſters of State aid the Devil in his tempta⯑tions, to foment (if not make) plots for the ſake of Confiſcations; a puniſhment never in uſe while Rome was free; but which came in with their Tyrants, and was picked up from them as the moſt precious jewel of the Crown, by the lit⯑tle arbitrary Monarchs that aroſe out of, and ſcrambled for the ſpoils of that Em⯑pire; and which, the wisdom and equi⯑ty of the Britiſh legiſlature have con⯑demned by an act of repeal, to commence after a convenient ſeaſon.—So ſure always, and juſt is our author's ſatyr, even in thoſe places where he ſeems moſt to have indulged himſelf only in an elegant ba⯑dinage.
EPISTLE IV.
To RICHARD BOYLE, Earl of Burlington.
[]ARGUMENT.
Of the USE of RICHES.
The Vanity of Expence in People of Wealth and Quality. The abuſe of the word Taſte, ℣ 13. That the firſt principle and foundation, in this as in every thing elſe, is Good Senſe, ℣ 40. The chief proof of it is to follow Nature, even in works of mere Luxury and Elegance. Inſtanced in Ar⯑chitecture and Gardening, where all muſt be adapted to the Genius and Uſe of the Place, and the Beauties not forced into it, but reſulting from it, ℣ 50. How men are diſappointed in their moſt expenſive undertakings, for want of this true Foundation, without which nothing can pleaſe long, if at all; and the beſt Examples and Rules will but be perverted into ſomething burdenſome or ridiculous, ℣ 65, &c. to 92. A deſcription of the falſe Taſte of Magnificence; the firſt grand Error of which is to ima⯑gine that Greatneſs conſiſts in the Size and Dimenſion, inſtead of the Pro⯑portion and Harmony of the whole, ℣ 97. and the ſecond, either in join⯑ing together Parts incoherent, or too minutely reſembling, or in the Re⯑petition of the ſame too frequently, ℣ 105, &c. A word or two of falſe Taſte in Books, in Muſic, in Painting, even in Preaching and Prayer, and laſtly in Entertainments, ℣ 133, &c. Yet PROVIDENCE is juſtified in giving Wealth to be ſquandered in this manner, ſince it is diſperſed to the Poor and Laborious part of mankind, ℣ 169. [Recurring to what is laid down in the firſt book, Ep. ii. and in the Epiſtle preceding this, ℣ 159, &c.] What are the proper Objects of Magnificence, and a proper field for the Expence of Great Men, ℣ 177, &c. and finally, the Great and Public Works which become a Prince, ℣ 191, to the end.
COMMENTARY.
[75]EPISTLE IV.] The extremes of Avarice and Profuſion being treated of in the fore⯑going Epiſtle; this takes up one particular branch of the latter, the Vanity of Expence in people of Wealth and Quality; and is therefore a corollary to the preceding. It is equally remarkable for exactneſs of method with the reſt. But the nature of the ſub⯑ject, which is leſs philoſophical, makes it capable of being analyſed in a much nar⯑rower compaſs.
The poet's introduction [from ℣ 1 to 39.] conſiſts of a very curious remark, ariſing from his intimate knowledge of nature, together with an illuſtration of it, taken from his obſervations on life. It is this, that the Prodigal no more enjoys his Profuſion, than the Miſer his Rapacity. It was generally thought, that Avarice only kept without enjoyment; but the poet here firſt acquaints us with a circumſtance in human life much more to be lamented, viz. that Profuſion too can communicate without it; whereas Enjoyment was thought to be as peculiarly the reward of the beneficent paſſions (of which this ſeems to have the appearance) as want of en⯑joyment was the puniſhment of the ſelfiſh.—The phaenomenon obſerved is odd enough. But if we look more narrowly into this matter, we ſhall find, that Prodigality, when in purſuit of Taſte, is only a Mode of Vanity, and conſequently as ſelfiſh a paſſion as even Avarice itſelf, and it is of the ordonance and conſtitution of all ſelfiſh paſſions, when growing to exceſs, to defeat their own end, which is Self-enjoyment. But beſides the accurate philoſophy of this obſervation, there is a fine Morality contained in it; namely that ill-got Wealth is not only as unreaſonably, but as uncomfortably ſquandered as it was raked together; which the poet himſelf further inſinuates in ℣ 15.
He then illuſtrates this obſervation by divers examples in every branch of wrong Taſte; and to ſet their abſurdities in the ſtrongeſt light, he, in concluſion, contraſts them [76] with ſeveral inſtances of the true, in the noble Lord to whom the Epiſtle is addreſſed. This diſpoſition is productive of various beauties: for, by this means, the Introduction becomes an epitome of the body of the Epiſtle; which, as we ſhall ſee, conſiſts of ge⯑neral reflections on Taſte, and particular examples of bad and good. And his friend's Example concluding the Introduction, leads the poet gracefully into the ſub⯑ject itſelf; for this Lord, here celebrated for his good Taſte, was now at hand to deliver the firſt and fundamental percept of it himſelf, which gives authority and dignity to all that follow.
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and in this artful manner begins the body of the Epiſtle.
I.
The firſt part of it, [from ℣ 38 to 95.] delivers rules for attaining to the MAGNI⯑FICENT in juſt expence; which is the ſame in Building and Planting, that the SUB⯑LIME is in Painting and Poetry; and, conſequently, the qualities neceſſary for the attainment of both muſt have the ſame relation.
1. The firſt and fundamental, he ſhews [from ℣ 38 to 47.] to be SENSE.
And for that reaſon; not only as it is the foundation and parent of them all, and the conſtant regulator and director of their operations, or, as the poet better expreſſes it, — of every Art the Soul; but likewiſe as it alone can, in caſe of need, very often ſupply the offices of every one of them.
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2. The next quality, for dignity and uſe, is TASTE, and but the next: For, as the poet truly obſerves, there is — ſomething previous ev'n to Taſte — 'tis Senſe; and this, in the order of things: For Senſe is a taſte and true conception of Nature; and Taſte is a ſenſe or true conception of beautiful Nature; but we muſt firſt know the Eſſences of things, before we can judge truly of their Qualities. The buſineſs of Taſte, therefore, in the purſuit of Magnificence, is, as the poet ſhews us [from ℣ 46 to 65.] 1. [to ℣ 51.] to catch or lay hold on Nature, where ſhe appears moſt in her charms. 2. [to ℣ 57.] To adorn her, when taken, as beſt ſuits her dignity and quality; that is, to dreſs her in the light and modeſt habit of a virgin, not load her with the gaudy ornaments of a proſtitute. This rule obſerved, will prevent a tranſgreſſion in the following, which is, not to let all its beauties be ſeen at once, but in ſucceſſion; for that advantage is inſeparable from a graceful and well-dreſſed perſon. 3. [to ℣ 65.] To take care that the ornaments be well ſuited to that part, which it is your purpoſe to adorn; and, as in dreſſing out a modeſt Fair, (which is the poet's own compariſion) the colours are proportioned to her complexion; the ſtuff, to the embonpoint of her perſon; and the faſhion, to her air and ſhape; ſo in ornamenting a villa, the riſe or fall of waters ſhould correſpond to its acclivities or declivities; the artificial hills or vales to its cover or expoſure; and the manner of calling in the country to the diſpoſition of its aſpect. But again, as in the illuſtra⯑tion, whatever be the variety in colour, ſtuff, or faſhion, they muſt ſtill be ſo ſuited with reſpect to one another, as to produce an agreement and harmony in their aſſem⯑blage; ſo woods, waters, mountains, vales, and viſtas muſt, amidſt all their diverſity, be ſo diſpoſed with a relation to each other, as to create a perfect ſymmetry reſulting [81] from the whole; and this, the Genius of the place, when religiouſly conſulted, will never fail to inform us of; who, as the poet ſays,
And this is a full and complete deſcription of the office of Taſte.
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But now when good Senſe has led us up to Taſte, our fondneſs for the elegances of our new miſtreſs, oftentimes occaſions us to neglect the plainneſs and ſimplicity of the old; we are but too apt to forſake our Guide, and to give ourſelves up ſolely to Taſte. Our author's next rule therefore 3. is, ſtill to follow Senſe, and let it perpetually accompany us thro' all the works of Taſte.
That is, Good Senſe ſhould never be a moment abſent from the works of Taſte, any more than the Soul from the Body; for juſt as the Soul animates and informs every air and feature of a beauteous body, ſo Senſe gives life and vigour to all the products of Taſte.
The particular advantages of the union of [83] Senſe with Taſte he then explains [from this verſe to 71.] 1. That the beautiful parts which Taſte has laid out and contrived, Senſe makes to anſwer one another, and to ſlide naturally, without violence, into a whole. 2. That many beauties will ſpontaneouſly offer themſelves, ſuggeſted from the very neceſſity which Senſe lays upon us, of conforming the parts to the whole, that no original invention of Taſte would have ſupplied. 3. A third advantage is, that you are then always ſure to have Nature on your ſide,
The expreſſion is important — Senſe being a right conception of Nature; and Taſte a right conception of beautiful Nature; when theſe are in conjunction, Nature can ſtand out no longer, but preſents herſelf to you without further pains or ſearch.
To illuſtrate this doctrine, the poet next ſhews us [from ℣ 70 to 99.] that without this continued ſupport of Good Senſe, things even of the higheſt Taſte and utmoſt Magnificence, ſuch as the Buildings of Ver⯑ſailles, the Gardens of Villario, and the Groves of Sabinus (which are the inſtances he gives) all, in a very little time, come to nothing. — And no wonder. For the exerciſe of Taſte WITHOUT SENSE is, where ſomething that is not beautiful Nature is [84] miſtaken for it, and ornamented as beautiful Nature ſhould be: Theſe ornaments, there fore, being deſtitute of all real ſupport, muſt be continually ſubject to change. Some⯑times the owner himſelf will grow weary of them (as in the caſe of Villario) and find at laſt, that Nature is to be preferred before them,
Sometimes, again, the Heir (like Sabinus's) will be changing a bad Taſte for a worſe,
So that mere Taſte ſtanding expoſed between the true and falſe, like the decent man, between the rigidly virtuous, and thoroughly profligate, hated and deſpiſed by both, can never long ſupport itſelf; and with this the firſt part of the Epiſtle concludes.
II.
[86]As the firſt part ended with expoſing the works of Taſte without Senſe, the ſecond begins with a deſcription [from ℣ 98 to 173.] of falſe Magnificence WITHOUT EITHER SENSE OR TASTE, in the gardens, buildings, [87] table-furniture, library, and way of living of Lord Timon; who, in none of theſe, could diſtinguiſh between greatneſs and vaſtneſs, between regularity and form, between dignity and faſtus, or between learning and pedantry. But what then? ſays the poet, here reſuming the great principle of his Philoſophy (which theſe moral Epiſtles were wrote to illuſtrate, and conſequently on which they are all regulated) tho'
Yet the puniſhment is confined as it ought, and the evil is turned to the benefit of others: For
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But now a difficulty ſticks with me, anſwers an ob⯑jector, this load of evil ſtill remains a monument of folly to future ages; an incum⯑brance to the plain on which it ſtands, and a nuiſance to the neigbourhood around, as filling it
For men are apt to take the example next at hand; and apteſt of all to take a bad one. No fear of that, replies the poet [from ℣ 172 to 177.] Nothing abſurd or wrong is exempt from the juriſdiction of Time, which is always ſure to do full juſtice on it,
For the prerogative of
is only due to the deſigns of true Taſte joined to Uſe: And
and nothing but the ſanctity of that can arreſt the juſtice of Time. And thus the ſecond part concludes; which conſiſting of an example of falſe Taſte in every attempt to Magnificence, is full of concealed precepts for the true: As the firſt part, which contains precepts for true Taſte, is full of examples of the falſe.
III.
We come now to the third and laſt part; [from ℣ 176 to the end] and, as in the firſt, the poet had given examples of wrong-judged Magnificence, in things of Taſte without Senſe; and in the ſecond, an example of others without either Senſe or Taſte; ſo the third is employed in two illuſtrious ex⯑amples of Magnificence in Planting and Building, where both Senſe and Taſte highly prevail: The one in him, to whom this Epiſtle is addreſſed; and the other, in the Noble perſon whoſe excellent Character bore ſo conſpicuous a part in the foregoing.
Where, in the fine deſcription he gives of theſe two ſpecies of Magnificence, he art⯑fully [94] inſinuates, that tho' when executed in a true Taſte, the great end and aim of both be the ſame, viz. the general good, in uſe or ornament; yet that their progreſs to this end is carried on in direct contrary courſes; that in Planting the private ad⯑vantage of the neighbourhood is firſt promoted, till, by time, it riſes up to a public benefit:
On the contrary, the wonders of Architecture ought firſt to be beſtowed on the public:
And when the public has been properly ſtrengthened and adorned, then, and not till [95] then, the works of private Magnificence may take place. This was the order obſerv'd by thoſe two great Empires, from whom we received all we have of this polite art: We read not of any the leaſt Magnificence in the private buildings of Greece or Rome, till the grandeur of their public ſpirit had adorned the State with Temples, Empori⯑ums, Council-houſes, Common-Porticos, Baths, and Theatres.
NOTES.
[76]A Gentleman fa⯑mous for a judicious collection of Draw⯑ings.
The author ſpeaks here not as as a Philoſopher or Divine, but as a Connoiſſeur and Antiquary; conſequent⯑ly the natural attribute here aſſigned to theſe Gods of old renown, is not in diſ⯑paragement of their worth, but in high commendations of their genuine pre⯑tenſions.
This is not to be under⯑ſtood in the ſtrictneſs of the letter, as if Mr. Tho. Hearne enjoyed theſe rari⯑ties without a partaker; for he has been often known to exemplify theſe precious zelicks under the authority of the Cla⯑rendon Printing-houſe, where the good ſeed has ſometimes produced forty or fifty folds Hence, and from their ſtill conti⯑nuing as much rarities as ever, it may be reaſonably concluded they were not the delight of Mr. T. Hearne alone.
Two eminent Phy⯑ſicians; the one had an excellent Libra⯑ry, the other the fineſt collection in Eu⯑rope of natural curioſities; both men of great learning and humanity.
By the author's manner of putting together theſe two different u⯑tenſils of falſe Magnificence, it appears that, properly ſpeaking, neither the Wiſe nor the Whore is the real object of modern taſte, but the Finery only: And whoever. [77] wears it, whether the Wife or Whore, it matters not; any further than that the latter beſt deſerves it, as appears from her having moſt of it; and ſo indeed be⯑comes, by accident, the more faſhion⯑able thing of the two.
The preſent rage of Taſte, amidſt the exceſs and overflow of general Luxury, may be very properly repreſented by a deſolating peſtilence, al⯑luded to in the word Viſit, where Taſte becomes, as the poet ſays,
This man was a carpenter, employ'd by a firſt Miniſter, who rais'd him to an Architect, without any genius in the art; and after ſome wretched proofs of his inſufficiency in public Buildings, made him Comptroller of the Board of works.
Pride is one of the greateſt miſchiefs, as well as abſurdities of our nature; and therefore, as appears both from profane and ſacred Hiſtory, has ever been the more peculiar object of divine vengeance. But awkward Pride intimates ſuch abilities in its owner, as eaſes us of the apprehenſion of much miſ⯑chief from it; ſo that the poet ſuppoſes ſuch a one ſecure from the ſerious reſent⯑ment of Heaven, though it may permit fate or fortune to bring him into the pu⯑blic contempt and ridicule, which his na⯑tive badneſs of heart ſo well deſerves.
VER. 23. The Earl of Burlington was then publiſhing the Deſigns of Inigo Jones, and the Antiquities of Rome by Palladio.
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Becauſe the road to Taſte, like that to Truth, is but one; and thoſe to Error and Abſurdity a thouſand.
In which there is a complication of abſurdities, ariſing both from their different natures and forms: For the one being for holy ſervice, and the other only for civil amuſement, it is impoſſible that the profuſe and laſcivious ornaments of the latter, ſhould become the reverence, retinue, and ſanctity of the other? Nor will any examples of this vanity of ornament in the ſacred buildings of antiquity juſtify this imita⯑tion; for thoſe ornaments might be very ſuitable to a Temple of Bacchus, or Ve⯑nus, which would ill become the ſobriety and purity of the preſent Religion.
Again we ſhould conſider, that the u⯑ſual form of a Theatre would only per⯑mit the architectonic ornaments to be placed on the outward face; whereas thoſe of a Church may be as commodi⯑ouſly, and are more properly put within, particularly in great and cloſe pent-up Cities, where the inceſſant driving of the ſmoak, in a little time corrodes and de⯑ſtroys all outward ornaments of this kind, eſpecially if the members, as is the com⯑mon taſte, be ſmall and little.
This abſurdity ſeems to have ariſen from an injudicious imitation of what theſe Builders might have heard of, at the entrance of the antient Gardens of Rome: But they don't conſider, that thoſe were public Gardens, given to the people by ſome great man after a tri⯑umph; to which, therefore, Arcs of this kind were very ſuitable ornaments.
This is a very good and eaſy Receipt to make a Front, and may be worth recommending to the Builders aforeſaid, who can do nothing of their own in⯑vention, better; nor by many degrees ſo cheap: which too may deſerve the conſideration of thoſe who ſet them on work.
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In the foregoing inſtances, the poet expoſes the abſurd imitation of foreign and diſcordant Manners in public buildings; here he turns to the ſtill greater abſurdities of taking their models from a diſcordant Climate in their private; which folly, he ſuppoſes, they will ſooner be made ſenſible of, as they muſt feel for themſelves, tho' they will not ſee for the public.
To convince a great man of ſo ſtrange a Paradox, that Taſte cannot be bought, even after it is paid for, will need a very broad hint indeed; eſpecially when fol⯑lowed by another as ſtrange, that there is
Yet as ſevere a ſubject of humiliation as [80] all this is to the Rich, it was but neceſ⯑ſary to inculcate it, in order to work in them, if poſſible, that teachableneſs of mind neceſſary for their profiting by the following inſtructions.
VER. 46. Inigo Jones the celebrated Architect, and M. Le Nôtre, the deſigner of the beſt Gardens of France.
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For when the ſame beauty obtrudes itſelf upon you over and over; when it meets you full at what⯑ever place you ſtop, or to whatever point you turn, then Nature loſes her proper charms of a modeſt fair, and you begin to hate and nauſeate her as a pro⯑ſtitute.
If the poet was right in comparing the true dreſs of Nature to that of a modeſt fair, it is a plain con⯑ſequence, that one half of the deſigner's art muſt be, decently to hide, as the other half is, gracefully to diſcover.
The per⯑ſonalizing or rather deifying the Genius of the place, in order to be conſulted as an Oracle, has produced one of the nobleſt and moſt ſublime deſcriptions of Deſign, that poetry could expreſs. Where this Genius, while preſiding over the work, is repreſented by little and little, as advanc⯑ing from a ſimple adviſer, to a creator of all the beauties of improved Nature, in a variety of bold metaphors and alluſions, all riſing one above another, till they complete the unity of the general idea.
Firſt the Genius of the place tells the waters, or only ſimply gives directions: Then he helps th' ambitious hill, or is a fellow-labourer: Then again he ſcoops the [82] circling Theatre, or works alone, or in chief. Afterwards, riſing faſt in our idea of dignity, he calls in the country, allud⯑ing to the orders of princes in their pro⯑greſs, when accuſtomed to diſplay all their ſtate and magnificence: His character then grows ſacred, he joins willing woods, a metaphor taken from the office of the prieſthood, in the adminiſtration of one of its holy rites; till at length, he be⯑comes a Divinity, and creates and pre⯑ſides over the whole:
Much in the ſame manner as the plaſtic Nature is ſuppoſed to do, in the work of human generation.
The not obſerving this rule, bewilder'd a late noble writer (diſtinguiſhed for his phi⯑loſophy of Taſte) in the purſuit of the grand and magnificent in moral life; who when Good Senſe had led him up to the [...] of ancient renown, diſ⯑charged his Guide, and, captivated with the delights of Taſte, reſolved all into the [83] elegancies of that idea: And now, Reaſon, Morality, Religion, and the truth of things, were nothing elſe but TASTE; which, (that he might not be thought altogether to have deſerted his ſage conductreſs) he ſometimes dignified with the name of mo⯑ral ſenſe: And he ſucceeded, in the pur⯑ſuit of Truth, accordingly.
i. e. ſhall not be forced, but go of themſelves, as if both the parts and whole were not of yours, but of Na⯑ture's making. The metaphor is taken from a piece of mechaniſm finiſh'd by ſome great maſter, where all the parts are ſo previouſly fitted, as to be eaſily put together by any ordinary workman, and each part ſlides into its place, as it were thro' a groove ready made for that pur⯑poſe.
VER. 70. The ſeat and gardens of the Lord Viſcount Cobham in Buckingham⯑ſhire.
The expreſſion is very ſig⯑nificant. Had the Walls been ſaid to deſert the Terraces, this would have given us the image of a deſtruction, affected by time only; which had been foreign to the poet's intention, who is here ſpeaking of the puniſhment of unſupported Taſte, in the deſigned ſubverſion of it, either by good or bad, as it happens, one of which is ſure to do its buſineſs, and that ſoon; therefore it is with great propriety he ſays, that the Terraces deſert their walls, which implies purpoſe and violence in their ſub⯑verſion.
An high com⯑pliment to the noble perſon on whom it is beſtowed, as making him the ſubſti⯑tute of Good Senſe. — This office, in the original plan of the poem, was given to another; who not having the SENSE to ſee a compliment was intended him, convinced the poet it did not belong to him.
This was done in Hertfordſhire, by a wealthy citizen, at the expence of above 5000 l. by which means (merely to over⯑look a dead plain) he let in the north⯑wind upon his houſe and parterre, which [85] were before adorned and defended by beautiful woods.
Dr. S. Clarke's buſto placed by the Queen in the Hermitage, while the Dr. duely fre⯑quented the Court.
The imagery is here taken from Painting, in the judicious execution of the Pencil, and in the happy improvement of it by time. To underſtand what is meant by ſupporting (which is a term of art common both to Planting and Painting) we muſt conſider what things make the natural defect or weakneſs of a rude uncultivated Plain; and theſe are, the having a diſagreable flat⯑neſs, and the not having a proper termi⯑nation. But a Wood, rightly diſpoſed, takes away the one, and gives what is wanting of the other.
The utmoſt which art can do, when it does its full office, is to give the work a conſent of parts; but it is time only that can make the union here ſpoken of, there being the ſame difference between theſe, as between a ſimple Contract, and a Con⯑ſummation. So in painting, the ſkill of the maſter can go no further, in the chromatic part, than to ſet thoſe colours together, which have a natural friendſhip and ſympathy for each other: But no⯑thing but time can unite and incorporate their tints.
And now the work becomes a very pi⯑cture; which the poet informs us of, in the ſublime way of poetical inſtruction, by ſetting that picture before our eyes; and not merely a picture, but a perfect one, in which the lights and ſhades, not only bear a proportion to one another in their force (which is implied in the word contends) but are both at their height (which the word ſtrength ſignifies.) As the uſe of the ſingular number in the terms Shade and Light, alludes to ano⯑ther precept of the art, that not only the ſhades and lights ſhould be great and broad, but that the maſſes of the clair-obſcure, in a groupe of objects, ſhould be ſo ma⯑naged, by a ſubordination of the groups to the unity of deſign, as that the whole together may afford one great ſhade and light.
i. e. The ſeveral colours of the grove in bloom, give ſeveral different tints to the lights and ſhades.
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Finely intimating, by this ſublime claſſical image, that the Father's taſte was enthuſiaſtical; in which paſſion there is always ſomething great and no⯑ble; tho' it be too apt, in its flights, to leave ſenſe behind it: and this was the good man's caſe. But his Son's was a poor deſpicable ſuperſtition, a low ſom⯑brous paſſion, whoſe perverſity of Taſte could only gratify itſelf,
VER. 95. The two extremes in par⯑terres, which are equally faulty; a bound⯑leſs Green, large and naked as a field, or a flouriſh'd Carpet, where the greatneſs and nobleneſs of the piece is leſſened by being divided into too many parts, with [87] ſcroll'd works and beds, of which the ex⯑amples are frequent.
Touches upon the ill taſte of thoſe who are ſo fond of Evergreens (particularly Yews, which are the moſt tonſile) as to deſtroy the nobler Foreſt-trees, to make way for ſuch little ornaments as Pyramids of dark-green continually repeated, not unlike a Funeral proceſſion.
This de⯑ſcription is intended to comprize the prin⯑ciples of a falſe Taſte of Magnificence, and to exemplify what was ſaid before, that nothing but Good Senſe can attain it.
Grandeur in building, as in the human frame, takes not its de⯑nomination from the body, but the ſoul of the work: when the ſoul therefore is loſt or incumber'd in its invelope, the unani⯑mated parts, how huge ſoever, are not members of grandeur, but mere heaps of littleneſs.
This is exactly the two puddings of the citizen in the foregoing fable, only ſerved up a little more magnificently: But both on the ſame abſurd principle of wrong taſte, viz. that one can never have too much of a good thing.
The ex⯑quiſite humour of this expreſſion ariſes ſole⯑ly from its ſignificancy. Theſe groves, that have no meaning, but very near relation, can expreſs themſelves only like twin ide⯑ots, by nods, which juſt ſerve to let us underſtand, that they know one another, as being nurſed up by one common pa⯑rent.
VER. 124. The two Statues of the Gladiator pugnans and Gladiator moriens.
[89] VER. 130. The Approaches and Com⯑munications of houſe with garden, or of one part with another, ill judged and in⯑convenient.
The falſe Taſte in Books; a ſatyr on the vanity in collecting them, more frequent in men of Fortune than the ſtudy to underſtand them. Many delight chiefly in the ele⯑gance of the print, or of the binding; ſome have carried it ſo far, as to cauſe the upper ſhelves to be filled with painted books of wood; others pique themſelves ſo much upon books in a language they do not underſtand, as to exclude the moſt uſeful in one they do.
VER 142. The falſe Taſte in Muſic, improper to the ſubjects, as of light airs in Churches, often practiſed by the orga⯑niſts, &c.
This abſurdity is very happily expreſſed; Pride, of all human ſollies, being the firſt we ſhould leave be⯑hind us when we approach to the ſacred altar. But he who could take Meanneſs for Magnificence, might eaſily miſtake Humility for Meanneſs.
[90] VER. 145. — And in Painting (from which even Italy is not free) of naked fi⯑gures in Churches, &c. which has obli⯑ged ſome Popes to put draperies on ſome of thoſe of the beſt maſters.
The fine image here given in a ſingle word, admirably expoſes the unnatural poſition of the picture, and the too natural poſtures of its female fi⯑gures.
Verrio (Antonio) painted many cielings, &c. at Windſor, Hampton-court, &c. and La⯑guerre at Blenheim-caſtle, and other pla⯑ces.
This is a fact; a reverend Dean preaching at Court, threatened the ſinner with puniſhment in ‘"a place which he thought it not decent to name in ſo polite an aſſembly."’
VER. 153. Taxes the incongruity of Ornaments (tho' ſometimes practiſed by the ancients) where an open mouth ejects the water into a fountain, or where the ſhocking images of ſerpents, &c. are in⯑troduced in Grottos or Buffets.
The circumſtance of being well-colour'd ſhews this ornament not only to be very abſurd, but very odi⯑ous too; and has a peculiar beauty, as, in one inſtance of falſe Taſte, viz. an inju⯑dicious choice in imitation, he gives (in the epithet employ'd) the ſuggeſtion of ano⯑ther, which is an injudicious manner of it. For thoſe diſagreeable objects which, when painted, give pleaſure; if colour⯑ed after nature, in relief, become ſhock⯑ing, as a toad, or dead carcaſe in wax⯑work: yet theſe things are the de⯑light of all people of bad Taſte. How⯑ever, the Ornament itſelf pretends to ſcience, and would juſtify its uſe by antiquity, tho' it betrays the moſt miſer⯑able ignorance of it. The Serpent, a⯑mongſt the ancients, was ſacred, and full of venerable myſteries. Now things do not excite ideas ſo much according to their own natural impreſſions, as by fictitious ones, ariſing from foreign and accidental [91] combinations; conſequently the view of this animal raiſed in them nothing of that abhorrence which it is wont to do in us; but, on the contrary, very agreeable ſen⯑ſations, correſpondent to thoſe foreign aſ⯑ſociations. Hence, and more eſpecially becauſe the Serpent was the peculiar Sym⯑bol of health, it became an extreme pro⯑per ornament to the genial rooms of the ancients: While we, who are ſtrangers to all this ſuperſtition, yet make ourſelves liable to one much more abſurd, which is, idolizing the very faſhions that aroſe from it. But if theſe pretenders to Taſte can ſo widely miſtake, it is no wonder that thoſe who pretend to none, I mean the verbal Critics, ſhould a little hallucinate in this matter. I remember, when the ſhort Latin inſcription on Shakeſpear's monument was firſt ſet up, and in the very ſtyle of elegant and ſimple anti⯑quity, the News-papers were full of theſe ſmall Critics; in which, the only obſer⯑vation that looked like learning, was founded in this ignorance of Taſte and Antiquity. One of theſe Critics objected to the word Mors (in the inſcription) becauſe the Roman writers of the pu⯑reſt times ſcrupled to employ it; but, in its ſtead, uſed an improper, that is, a figurative word, or otherwiſe a circumlo⯑cution. But had he conſider'd that it was their Superſtition of lucky and unlucky words which occaſion'd this delicacy, he muſt have ſeen that a Chriſtian writer, in a Chri⯑ſtian inſcription, acted with great judgment in avoiding ſo ſenſeleſs an affectation of, what he miſcalls, claſſical expreſſion.
The proud Feſtivals of ſome men are here ſet forth to ridicule, where pride deſtroys the eaſe, and formal regularity all the pleaſurable enjoyment of the entertain⯑ment.
See Don Quixote, chap. xlvii.
[92]
The Moral of the whole, where PRO⯑VIDENCE is juſtified in giving Wealth to thoſe who ſquander it in this manner. A bad Taſte employs more hands, and dif⯑fuſes Expence more than a good one. This recurs to what is laid down in Book I. Epiſt. 2. ℣ 230—7, and in the Epiſtle preceeding this, ℣ 161, &c.
[93]
The great beauty of this line is merely owing to the Art of the poet; by which he has ſo diſpoſed a trite claſſical figure, as not only to make it do it's common office, of repreſenting a very plentiful Harveſt, but alſo to aſſume the Image of Nature, re-eſtabliſhing herſelf in her rights, and mocking the vain efforts of falſe magnificence, which would keep her out of them.
Here the poet, to make the examples of good Taſte the better underſtood, intro⯑duces them with a ſummary of his Pre⯑cepts [94] in theſe two ſublime lines: for, the conſulting Uſe is beginning with Senſe; and the making Splendor or Taſte borrow all its rays from thence, is going on with Senſe, after ſhe has led us up to Taſte. The art of this can never be ſufficiently admired. But the Expreſſion is equal to the Thought. This ſanctifying of expence gives us the idea of ſomething conſecrated and ſet apart for ſacred uſes; and indeed, it is the idea under which it may be pro⯑perly conſidered: For wealth employed [95] according to the intention of the great donor, is its true conſecration; and the real uſes of humanity were certainly firſt in his intention.
The poet, after having touched upon the proper objects of Magnificence and Expence, in the pri⯑vate works of great men, comes to thoſe great and public works which become a Prince. This Poem was publiſhed in the year 1732, when ſome of the new-built Churches, by the Act of Queen Anne, were ready to fall, being ſounded in boggy land (which is ſatyrically alluded to in our author's imitation of Horace lib. ii. Sat. 2.
others were vilely executed, thro' frau⯑dulent cabals between undertakers, offi⯑cers, &c. Dagenham-breach had done very great miſchiefs; many of the High⯑ways throughout England were hardly paſſable, and moſt of thoſe which were repaired by Turnpikes were made jobs for private lucre, and infamouſly execu⯑ted, even to the entrances of London it⯑ſelf: The propoſal of building a Bridge at Weſtminſter had been petition'd againſt and rejected; but in two years after the publication of this poem, an Act for building a Bridge paſt thro' both houſes. After many debates in the committee, the execution was left to the carpenter above⯑mentioned, who would have made it a wooden one; to which our author alludes in theſe lines,
See the notes on that place.
- Zitationsvorschlag für dieses Objekt
- TextGrid Repository (2020). TEI. 3654 Epistles to several persons. University of Oxford Text Archive. . https://hdl.handle.net/21.T11991/0000-001A-5CC4-0
COMMENTARY.
[]EPISTLE I.] This Epiſtle is divided into three principal parts or members: The Firſt [from ℣ 1 to 99.] treats of the difficulties in coming at the Knowledge and true Chara⯑cters of Men.—The Second [from ℣ 98 to 173.] of the wrong means which both Philo⯑ſophers and Men of the World have employed in ſurmounting thoſe difficulties. And the Third [from ℣ 174 to the end] treats of the right means with directions for the ap⯑plication of them.
I.
The Epiſtle is introduced [from ℣ 1 to 15] in obſerving, that the Knowledge of Men is neither to be gained by Books nor Experi⯑ence alone, but by the joint uſe of both; for that the Maxims of the Philoſopher, and the Concluſions of the Man of the World can, ſeparately, but ſupply a vague and ſuper⯑ficial knowledge: And often not ſo much, as thoſe Maxims are founded in the abſtract notions of the writer; and theſe concluſions are drawn from the uncertain conjectures of the obſerver: But when the writer joins his ſpeculation to the experience of the obſerver, his notions are rectified into principles; and when the obſerver regulates his experience on the general principles of the writer, his conjectures advance into ſcience. Such is the reaſoning of this introduction; which beſides its propriety to the general ſubject of the Epiſtle, has a peculiar relation to each of its parts or members: For the cauſes of the difficulty in coming at the knowledge and characters of men, explained in the Firſt, will ſhew the importance of what is here delivered, of the joint aſſiſtance [2] of ſpeculation and practice to ſurmount it; and the wrong means which both philoſo⯑phers and men of the world have employed in overcoming thoſe difficulties diſcourſed of in the Second, have their ſource here deduced, which is ſeen to be a ſeparate adherence of each to his own method of ſtudying men, and a mutual contempt of the others. Laſtly, the right means delivered in the Third, will be of little uſe in the application, without the direction here delivered: For tho' obſervation diſcovered a ruling paſſion, yet, without a philoſophic knowledge of the human mind, we may eaſily miſtake a ſecondary and ſubſidiary paſſion for the principal, and ſo be never the nearer in the Knowledge of Men. But the elegant and eaſy Form of the introduction equals the Pro⯑priety of its matter; for the Epiſtle being addreſſed to a noble perſon, diſtinguiſhed for his knowledge of the World, it opens, as it were, in the midſt of a familiar converſe, which lets us at once into his character; where the poet, by affecting only to ridicule the uſeleſs Knowledge of Men confined to Books, and under the appearance of extolling only that acquired by the World, artfully inſinuates how equally defective this may be, when conducted on the ſame narrow principle: Which is too often the caſe, as men of the world are more than ordinarily prejudiced in favour of their own obſervations for the ſake of the obſerver, and, for the ſame reaſon, leſs indulgent to the diſcoveries of others.
[3]
The poet enters on the Firſt diviſion of his ſubject, the difficulties of coming at the Knowledge and true Characters of Men. The I. cauſe of this difficulty, which he proſecutes from ℣ 14 to 19. is the great diverſity of Characters, of which, to abate our wonder, and not diſcourage our inquiry, he only deſires we would grant him
Hereby artfully inſinuating, that if Nature has varied the moſt worthleſs vegetable into above three hundred ſpecies, we need not wonder at the like diverſity in the human mind: And if a variety in that vegetable has been thought of importance enough to employ the leiſure of a ſerious enquirer, much more will the ſame quality in this maſter-piece of Nature deſerve our ſtudy and attention.
A ſecond cauſe of this difficulty [from ℣ 18 to 21.] is Man's inconſtancy, whereby not only one man differs from another, but each man from himſelf.
A third cauſe [from ℣ 20 to 23.] is that obſcurity thrown over the Characters of men, thro' the ſtrife and conteſt between nature and cuſtom, between reaſon and appetite, between truth and opinion. And as moſt men, [4] either thro' education, temperature, or profeſſion, have their Characters warp'd by cuſtom, appetite, and opinion, the obſcurity ariſing from thence almoſt univerſal.
A fourth cauſe from ℣ 20 to 25. is deep diſſimulation, and reſtleſs caprice, whereby the ſhallows of the mind are as difficult to be found, as the depths of it to be fathom'd.
A fifth cauſe [from ℣ 24 to 31.] is the ſudden change of his Principle of action, either on the point of its being laid open and de⯑tected, or thro' mere inconſtancy.
Hitherto the poet hath ſpoken of the cauſes of difficulty ariſing from the obſeurity of the Object; he now comes to thoſe which pro⯑ceed from defects in the Obſerver. The Firſt of which, and a ſixth cauſe of difficulty, he ſhews [from ℣ 30 to 57.] is the perverſe manners, affections, and imagination of the obſerver, whereby the Characters of others are rarely ſeen either in their true light, complexion, or proportion.
[5]
The Second of theſe, and ſeventh cauſe of difficulty [from ℣ 36 to 41.] is the ſhortneſs of human life, which will not ſuffer the obſerver to ſelect and weigh out his knowledge, but juſt to ſnatch it as it rolls rapidly by him down the current of Time.
We come now to the eighth and laſt cauſe, which very properly concludes the account, as, in a ſort, it ſums up all the difficulties in one [from ℣ 40 to 51.] namely, that very often the man himſelf is ignorant of his own motive of action; the cauſe of which ignorance our author has admirably explain'd: When the mind (ſays he) is now quite tired out by the long conflict of oppoſite mo⯑tives, it withdraws its attention, and ſuffers the will to be ſeized upon by the firſt that afterwards obtrudes itſelf, without taking notice what that motive is. This is finely illuſtrated by what he ſuppoſes the general cauſe of dreams; where the fancy juſt let looſe poſſeſſes itſelf of the laſt image which it meets with on the confines between ſleep and waking, and on that eracts all its viſionary operation; yet this image is, with great difficulty, recollected; and never, but when ſome accident happens to interrupt our firſt ſlumbers: Then (which proves the truth of the hypotheſis) we are ſometimes able to trace the workings of the Fancy backwards, from image to image, in a chain, till we come to that from whence they all aroſe.
[6]
But now in anſwer to all this, an objector, as the author ſhews [from ℣ 50 to 61.] may ſay, ‘"That theſe difficulties ſeem to be aggra⯑vated: For many Characters are ſo plainly marked, that no man can miſtake them: And not ſo only in the more open and frank, but in the very cloſeſt and moſt recluſe likewiſe."’ Of each of which the objector gives an inſtance, whereby it appears, that the forbidding cloſeneſs and concealed hypocriſy in the one, are as conſpicuous to all mankind, as the gracious openneſs and frank plain-dealing of the other. — The Reader ſees this objection is more particularly level'd at the doctrine of ℣ 23.
for it here endeavours to prove, that both are equally explorable.
[7]
To this objection, therefore, our au⯑thor replies [from ℣ 60 to 67.] that indeed the fact may be true in the inſtances given, but that ſuch plain characters are extremely rare: And for the truth of this, he not only appeals to experience, but explains the cauſes of it: 1. The Firſt of which is, the vivacity of the Imagination; for that when the bias of the Paſſions is enough determined to mark out the Character, yet then, as the vigour of the Fancy generally riſes in proportion to the ſtrength of the Appetites, the one no ſooner directs the bias, than the other reverſes it,
2. A Second cauſe is the contrariety of Appetites, which drawing ſeveral ways, as Avarice and Luxury, Ambition and Indolence, &c. they muſt needs make the ſame Character in⯑conſiſtent to itſelf, and conſequently inexplicable to the obſerver,
3. A Third cauſe is Affectation, that aſpires to qua⯑lities, which neither nature nor education has given us, and which, conſequently, nei⯑ther art nor uſe will ever render graceful or becoming. On this account it is, he well obſerves, that Affectation reverſes the ſoul; other natural paſſions may indeed turn it from that bias which the ruling one has given it; but the affected paſſions diſtort all its faculties, and cramp all its operations; ſo that it acts with the ſame conſtraint that a tumbler walks upon his hands.
4. A Fourth cauſe lies in the Inequalities [...] the human mind, which expoſe the wiſe to unexpected frailties, and conduct the [...] to as unlooked for wiſdom.
[8]
Of all theſe Four cauſes he here gives examples: 1. Of the vivacity of the Imagination, from ℣ 71 to 77. — 2. Of the contrariety of Appetites, from ℣ 77 to 80. — 3. Of Affectation, from ℣ 86 to 90. — and 4. Of the Inequalities of the human mind, from ℣ 86 to 95.
[9]
Having thus proved what he had propoſed, the premiſſes naturally lead him into a moral reflexion, with which he concludes his firſt part, namely, that conſtancy is to be expected in no human Character whatſoever, [10] but to be found only in God and his Laws: That as to Man, he is not only perpetu⯑ally ſhifting and varying, even while within the verge of his own nature; but is fre⯑quently flying out into each extreme both above and below it: Now aſſociating in good earneſt with Brutes, and now again affecting the imaginary coverſation of Angels. [See Eſſay on Man, Ep. ii. ℣ 8.
II.
The author having ſhewn the difficulties in com⯑ing to the Knowledge and true Characters of men, enters now upon the ſecond diviſion of his Poem, which is of the wrong means that both Philoſophers and Men of the world have employed in ſurmounting thoſe difficulties. He had, in the Introduction, ſpoken of the abſurd conduct of both, in deſpiſing the aſſiſtance of each other: He now juſtifies his cenſure by an examination of their peculiar doctrines; and, to take them in their own way, conſiders them, as they would be conſidered, ſeparately. And firſt, of the Philoſopher, whoſe principal miſtake is in ſuppoſing that Actions beſt decipher the Mo⯑tive of the actor. This he confutes [from ℣ 99 to 109.] by ſhewing that different Actions proceed often from the ſame motive; whether of accident, as diſappointed views; or of temperature, as an aduſt complexion; which he thus illuſtrates,
In judging therefore of Motives by Actions, the Philoſopher muſt needs be frequently miſled; becauſe the paſſion or appetite which, when impelling to Action, we call the Motive, may be equally gratified in the purſuit of quite different meaſures.
[11]
The Philoſopher's ſecond miſtake is, that Actions decipher the character of the actor. This too, the author confutes [from ℣ 118 to 135.] and, as in correcting the foregoing miſtake, he proved, that different Actions often proceed from the ſame Motive; ſo here he proves, that the ſame Actions often proceeds from different Motives; thus a kind Action, he obſerves, as commonly ariſes from the accidents of proſperity or fine weather, as from a natural diſpoſition to huma⯑nity; a modeſt Action, as well from pride as humility; a brave Action, as eaſily from habit or faſhion, as magnanimity; and a prudent Action as often from vanity as wiſdom. Now the Character being really determined by the Motives, and various, nay contrary Motives producing the ſame Action, the Action can never decipher the Character of the actor. But further (continues the poet) if we attend to what has been ſaid, we ſhall diſcover another circumſtance in the caſe, that will not only make it extremely diffi⯑cult, but abſolutely impracticable to decipher the Character by the Action; and that is, [12] the diſcordancy of Action in the ſame Character; a neceſſary conſequence of the two prin⯑ciples proved above, that different Actions proceed from the ſame Motive, and that the ſame Action proceeds from different Motives.
If you will judge of man by his Actions, you are not to ſelected ſuch only as you like, or can manage, you muſt fairly take all you find: But, when you have got theſe together, they will prove ſo very diſcordant that no conſiſtent Character can poſſibly be made out of them. What is then to be done? Will you ſuppreſs all thoſe you cannot reconcile to the few capital Actions which you chuſe for the foundation of your Character? But this the laws of truth will not allow of. Will you then miſcall them? and ſay they were not the natural work⯑ings of the man, but the diſguiſes of the politician? But what will you get by that, but the very reverſing the beſt known Character, and making the owner of it the direct oppoſite of himſelf? And this (ſays our author) the reaſoning and philoſophic hiſtorian has always been ready to do with the Actions of great men; of which he gives two famous inſtances in the life of Caefar. The concluſion from the whole is, that Actions do not ſhew the Man.
[13]
The poet having done with the Philoſopher, now turns to the Man of the world; whoſe firſt miſtake is in ſuppoſing men's true Characters may be known by their ſtation. This, tho' a mere mob-opinion, is the opi⯑nion in faſhion, and cheriſhed by the Mob of all ranks; therefore, tho' beneath the poet's reaſoning, he thought it deſerving of his ridicule; and the ſtrongeſt was what [14] he gives [from ℣ 134 to 141.] a naked expoſition of the fact; to which he has ſub⯑joined [from ℣ 140 to 149.] an ironical apology, that, as Virtue is cultivated with in⯑finitely more labour in Courts than in Cottages, it is but juſt to ſet an infinitely higher value on it; which, ſays he, with much pleaſantry, is moſt agreeable to all the faſhion⯑able ways of eſtimation. For why do the connoiſſeurs prefer the lively colour in a Gem before that in a Flower, but for its extreme rarity and difficulty of production?
This ſecond miſtake of the Man of the [15] world is more ſerious; it is, that Characters are beſt judged of by the general Manners. This the poet confutes in a lively enumeration of examples [from ℣ 148 to 158.] which ſhew, that how ſimilar or different ſoever the Manners be by Nature, yet they are all new model'd by Education and Profeſſion; where each man invariably receives that exotic form which the mould he falls into is fitted to imprint. The natural Cha⯑racter therefore can never be judged of by theſe fictitious Manners.
The third miſtake is in judging of mens Cha⯑racters by their Opinions and turn of thinking. But theſe the poet ſhews, by two ex⯑amples [from ℣ 157 to 166.] are generally ſwayed by Intereſt, both in the affairs of Life and Speculation.
[16]
The poet having gone thro' the miſtakes both of the Philoſopher and Man of the world, turns now to both; and [from ℣ 165 to 174.] jointly addreſſes them in a recapitulation of his reaſoning againſt both: He ſhews, that if we pretend to diſenvelope the Character by the natural diſpoſition in ge⯑neral, we ſhall find it extremely difficult, becauſe this is often effaced by Habit, over⯑ſwayed by Intereſt, and ſuſpended by Policy. — If by Actions, their contrariety will leave us in utter doubt and uncertainty. — If by Paſſions, we ſhall be perpetually miſ⯑led by the maſk of Diſſimulation. — If by Opinions, all theſe things concur together to perplex the enquiry. Shew us, therefore, ſays he, in the whole range of your Philoſophy and Experience the thing we can be certain of: For (to ſum up all in a word)
We muſt ſeek therefore ſome other rout to the point we aim at.
III.
[17]And now we enter on the third and laſt part; which treats of the right means of ſurmounting the difficulties in com⯑ing to the Knowledge and Characters of men: This, the poet ſhews, is by inveſtigating the RULING PASSION; of whoſe origin and nature we may find an exact account in the ſecond Ep. of the Eſſay on Man. This Principle he rightly obſerves [from ℣ 173 to 180.] is the clue that muſt guide us thro' all the intricacies in the ways of men: To [18] convince us of which, he applies it [from ℣ 179 to 210.] to the moſt wild and incon⯑ſiſtent Character that ever was; which (when drawn out at length in a ſpirit of poetry as rare as the character itſelf) we ſee, this Principle unravels, and renders throughout of one plain conſiſtent thread.
[19]
But here [from ℣ 209 to 222.] he gives one very neceſſary caution, that, in developing the Ruling Paſſion, we muſt be careful not to miſtake a ſubſidiary paſſion for the principal; which, without great attention, we may be very liable to do; as the ſubſidiary, acting in ſupport of the principal, has fre⯑quently all its vigour and much of its perſeverance: This error has miſled ſeveral both of the ancient and modern hiſtorians; as when they ſuppoſed Luſt and Luxury to be [20] Characteriſtics of Caeſar and Lucullus; whereas, in truth, the Ruling Paſſion of both was Ambition; which is ſo certain, that, at whatſoever different time of the Republic theſe men had lived, their Ambition, as the Ruling Paſſion, had been the ſame; but a dif⯑ferent time had changed their ſubſidiary ones of Luſt and Luxury, into their very oppo⯑ſites of Chaſtity and Frugality. 'Tis in vain, therefore, ſays our author, for the ob⯑ſerver of human nature to ſix his attention on the Workman, if he all the while miſ⯑takes the Scaffold for the Building.
[21]
But now it may be objected to our philoſo⯑phic poet, that he has indeed ſhewn the true means of coming to the Knowledge and Characters of men by a Principle certain and infallible, when found, yet, by his own account, of ſo difficult inveſtigation, that its Counterfeit, and it is always attended with one, may be eaſily miſtaken for it. To remove this difficulty, therefore, and conſequently the objection that ariſes from it, the poet has given [from ℣ 221 to 228.] one certain and infallible criterion of the Ruling Paſſion, which is this, that all the other paſſions, in the courſe of time, change and wear away; while this is ever con⯑ſtant and vigorous; and ſtill going on from ſtrength to ſtrength, to the very moment of its demoliſhing the miſerable machine that it has now at length overworked. Of this great truth, the poet [from ℣ 227 to the end] gives various inſtances in all the [22] principal Ruling Paſſions of our nature, as they are to be found in the Man of Buſi⯑neſs, the Man of Pleaſure, the Epicure, the Parcimonious, the Toaſt, the Courtier, the Miſer, and the Patriot; which laſt inſtance the poet has had the art, under the appearance of Satyr, to turn into the nobleſt Compliment on the perſon to whom the Epiſtle is addreſſed.