Of the Many Doors to Death

Sept. 27, 1755

My Dear Mr. Avenger,

To your first Query, whether the Word “enow”, in your quoted Passage from my Lord SHAFTESBURY is to be taken to mean “enough”, I answer in the Affirmative. As to your other Question, whether it truly be current English, I aver that, altho’ it was acceptable Usage in the Age of our Queen Anne, along with ’em for them, yet now it is but little heard in polite Society, and is confin’d largely to the Speech of Rusticks and the Realm of Market Billingsgate.

To the turn to the Conceit contain’d in his Lordship’s Words:
 
     “But tho’ there are Doors enow to go out of Life, etc.” [Characteristicks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times (1711), Vol. I, p. 179 – Ed.]

If Life may be reckon’d as a sort of Market Town in which we are all Visitors, and which hath its Limits or Bounds, separating it from the neighbouring Countryside, then of this Town, it may very well be said, that tho’ there is but one Road leading into it, many are the Roads that take us out of it. The Image may be taken in a double Sense: First, as a simple Statement of natural Fact, that indeed we are vented into this breathing World but by one maternal Passage and usher’d out of it by any one of many; and, Second, that since there are so many Passages out of this same bustling World, ‘tis an easy Matter, if one chooses, to take one of them whenever he hath grown tir’d of the Spectacle. I cannot, of course, as a decent Christian Man, approve of this latter Sentiment, however patently true is the former.

The Conceit is an ancient one, and is not original to his Lordship. Indeed, this noble Author hath taken it from the Story, which he recounts, of Araspas and Panthea in XENOPHON, where the former remarks that “tho’ there are ten thousand possible Ways of getting rid of Life, few do so” [Xenophon, Cyropædia, 5.1.13 – Ed.]. From thence, the Conceit seems to have become a stock Favourite with the Stoick Philosophers. We find EPICTETUS advising that “one ought to remember and hold fast to this, that the Door stands open.” [Epictetus, Discourses, I.25 – Ed.]. In a similar Vein was SENECA’s Observation that,

     Eripere vitam nemo non homini potest,
     At nemo mortem; mille ad hanc aditus patent.
[“Anyone can rob a man of life, but no one his death; a thousand doors open on to it.” Seneca, Phoenissae, l. 152 – Ed.]

From the Stoicks, the Sentiment seems to have pass’d into the Works of the ancient Poets:

     Noctes atque dies patet atri Janua Ditis.
[“The Gates of Death are open night and day.” Virgil, Æneid, 6.127  – Ed.]

                                               adeo tot fata, quot illa
     nocte patent vigiles te praetereunte fenestrae.
[“As you pass by at night, there are precisely as many causes of death as there are open windows watching you.” Juvenal, Satires, III.274-275. For “Death”, the original has fata, “fates” – Ed.].

Thus much for the Ancients. Among the Moderns, the Conceit was taken up by old MONTAIGNE, who wrote of Nature that “she has ordained only one Entry into Life, and a hundred thousand Exits” [Michel de Montaigne, Essays, “A Custom of the Island of Cea” – Ed.]. Among our English Dramatick Authors, ‘twas MASSINGER who observ’d that “Death hath a thousand Doors to let out Life” [Philip Massinger, A Very Woman (c. 1622), V.iv – Ed.], from whom WEBSTER seems to have taken his Hint:

     I know Death hath ten thousand several Doors
     For Men, to take their Exits.
[John Webster, The Dutchesse of Malfy (1623), IV.ii.215-216 – Ed.].

Among our moral Authors, “Man hath but one Entrance into the World,” said a notable Divine from an Age or two past,  “but a thousand ways to pass from thence” [see Jeremy Taylor, Discourses on Various Subjects (1807), Vol. II, Sermon XVI, p. 279 – Ed.]. Mr. ADDISON said much the same Thing: “Some of our Quaint Moralists have pleased themselves with an Observation, that there is but one Way of coming into the World, but a thousand to go out of it” [Joseph Addison, Guardian No. 136 (17 August 1713) – Ed.]. Since so various are the Passages opening unto Death’s midnight Kingdom, Dr. BROWNE was grateful that ‘tis only necessary to pass through one of them: “Considering the Doors that lead to Death I do thank my God that we can die but once” [Sir Thomas Browne, Religio Medici (1643), Pt. I, §44 – Ed.].

Indeed, the Observation  may be apply’d to other Things than to the Beginnings and Endings of Men: for ‘twas said by Dean SWIFT, that “Books, like Men their Authors, have no more than one Way of coming into the World, but there are ten Thousand to go out of it, and return no more” [Jonathan Swift, A Tale of a Tub (1710), p. 9 – Ed.]. And I my self once apply’d it to the getting and spending of an Household: for tho’ the ways by which Money may come into a Family are few, yet limitless are the possible Outlays that a Family may make, if, for Example, the Mistress of the House be Vain or the Master a Prodigal.

Amongst our English Poets, SIDNEY in his Arcadia seems to have been fond of this Notion: “Yet the house of Death had so many doores, as she would easilie flie into it, if euer she founde her honor endaungered.” [Sir Philip Sidney, The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia (1590), Bk. III, ch. iii, p. 256 – Ed.]. And again, of two Knights in Combat, he says of one that he had “made many windowes” in the other’s Armour “for Death to come in at” [Ibid. Bk. III, ch. xvi – Ed.]. And let us not forget our great national Poet in the Epick Kind,

                                           Death thou hast seen
     In his first shape on man; but many shapes
     Of Death, and many are the wayes that lead
     To his grim Cave, all dismal; yet to sense
     More terrible at th’ entrance then within.
                                          — Milton, Par. Lost, Bk. XI, 466-470.

Again, whether Death be got at thro’ Doors or Windows, or by Roads and other Passages, ‘tis plain Fact that Nature is as generous and inventive in giving us new ways to die as Men are in finding new Villanies to practice upon one another. And when Nature and Man are combin’d in their Invention, they beget every Kind of monstrous Death, as attested by the many Diseases consequent upon Vice, as well as the Pillow over the Sleeper’s unsuspecting Face, the Dagger in the Dark, Poison —

     Livida materno fervent adipata veneno.
     Mordeat ante aliquis quidquid porrexerit illa
     quae peperit, timidus praegustet pocula papas.
                                                                     — Juv. Sat. VI

[“Those pastries are steaming darkly with maternal poison. Get someone else to taste first anything that’s offered to you by the woman who bore you. Get your terrified tutor to drink from the cup before you.” Juvenal, Satires, 6.631-633 – Ed.].

What all these Authors abovemention’d have really to teach us is that, as there is but one Door into Life and many more of them unto Death, so it wou’d seem that the Ways of expressing the same are equally various.

I am, my Friend, ever your
    Devoted,
        Humble Servant,
            Jos. Darlington, Esq.
            Darlington Close,
            Horton-cum-Studley, Ox.

Of Some Faults in "Paradise Lost"

October 23, 1754

My Dear Mr. Avenger,

In my last I took an Opportunity of imparting some of my Thoughts upon the Topick of Vice as it hath been delineated by means of Verse; call this Theme the Poetry of Vice, if you will. I now wish to give you some of my Reflections upon a quite different Theme, one I wou’d call the Vices of Poetry. I wish to do this, by means of Illustrations drawn from one of your favourite Poets and mine — I refer to Mr. MILTON.

Of late, in this declining Season, I have been spending an Hour or two each Day with a Friend, a Gentleman in my Neighbourhood, who shares my high Regard for Paradise Lost. As I know from an ingenious little Piece writ by you some time ago, on SPENSER’s  “Art of Sinking” as you call’d it, you are an admirer of this inimitable effort in the epick Kind, I mean Paradise Lost. Shou’d you have the Patience, I wou’d therefore trouble you with a few Words, the Fruits of the pleasurable Labours of my Neighbour and I, presuming therefore upon our Friendship that you will do me the Honour of reading them.

‘Tis the mark of your minute Criticks to pride themselves on discovering Flaws in an Author. Each little Blemish or Slip discover’d, no matter how slight, adds a supposed Merit to the Critick’s Skill in the Eyes of an unthinking Audience; a Merit inflated in Proportion as the Stature of the Author is greater. These Giant-Killers make a Name for themselves by slaying over again great Authors long dead.

In truth, no work is without its Faults,

          “Whoever thinks a faultless Piece to see,
          Thinks what ne’er was, nor is, nor e’er shall be.”
[Alexander Pope, An Essay on Criticism (1711), ll. 253-254 — Ed.]

Indeed, if one were to be strictly critical, one must notice that even these two Lines of Mr. POPE’s are not without Fault, the second being an Heroick done all in tedious monosyllables, a violation of the Author’s own Precepts.

Since therefore ‘tis no such great Atchievement to find such a Failing in a single Couplet by one in the very first Rank of Poets, how numerous must be the Opportunities, then, for erecting a critical Character for oneself upon the Foundations of Works of much greater Length? HORACE once chided those Criticks who wou’d praise to the Skies a Poet of such mediocre Worth as his Choerilus for stumbling upon a Line or two worth remembering, whilst convicting honest HOMER without Mercy for the odd Line worth forgetting:
 
          sic mihi, qui multum cessat, fit Choerilus ille,
          quem bis terque bonum cum risu miror; et idem
          indignor quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus;
          verum operi longo fas est obrepere somnum.

          “So, if strange Chance a Choerilus inspire
          With some good Lines, I laugh, while I admire;
          Yet hold it for a Fault I can't excuse,
          If honest Homer slumber o'er his Muse;
          Although, perhaps, a kind indulgent Sleep
          O’er Works of length allowably may creep.”
[Horace, Ars Poetica, ll. 357-360, Philip Francis, trans. — Ed.]

But what mere Mortal can be always at his best in a Work the length of an Iliad or an Odyssey? Let a Choerilus write such an Epick Piece, and then we may compare the two Talents upon an even Ground. Indeed, Mr. Pope wou’d be more generous still, and have us first question ourselves before we question the Judgment or Skill of an Homer:
 
          “Those oft are Stratagems which Errors seem,
          Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream.”
[Pope, An Essay on Criticism (1711), ll. 179-180]

Pope was that rare Bird of Paradise who is both a great Critick, and a great Poet. And yet, small Critick that I am (and certainly no Poet), I must differ with him on this Score: Homer does slumber occasionally; it is not always the Critick who errs, nor are the Errors always Strategies. Nevertheless, the real Value of an Author’s Work – or lack of it – lies not in a single Entry in the Ledger, but in the Sum of all the Entries, in the final casting of Accounts, as it were:

          Verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis
          offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,
          aut humana parum cauit natura.

          “But when the Beauties more in Numbers shine,
          I am not angry when a casual Line
          (That with some trivial Faults unequal flows)
          A careless Hand, or human Frailty shows.”
[Horace, Ars Poetica, ll. 351-353, Francis, trans. — Ed.]

It is with these Reflections in Mind that I wish to draw your Attention to what I take to be some Flaws or Examples of Sinking in Paradise Lost. These fall into three Kinds, the first of which you remark’d upon in your Thoughts on Spenser’s Art of Sinking, namely, Heroicks composed of naught but monosyllabic Words. Unfortunately, there are many of these in Paradise Lost, too many to set down all of them in a Letter such as this. Here is a characteristical one:

          “Rocks, Caves, Lakes, Fens, Bogs, Dens, and shades of death,”
          (II.621)

Indeed, Milton’s fondness for little Lists of such Features (Rocks, Bogs, etc.) seems limitless:

          “Ore bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,” (II.948)

          “Rocks, Dens, and Caves; but I am none of these” (IX.118)
 
          “To Boggs and Mires, & oft through Pond or Poole,” (IX.641)

As you so justly pointed out, these long Strings of low Words cause the Wheels of a Line to “grind together”, if you will pardon my Expression. This Example in particular tripp’d up my poor reading Companion:

          “From whom I have that thus I move and live,” (VIII.281)

And finally, there is this one, which I defy the honest Reader to read aloud to himself without stumbling:

          “His full wrauth whose thou feelst as yet less part,” (X.951)

The second Kind of Sinking in Milton is that which Mr. ADDISON in one of his Spectators characterized as an affected Jingle in his Words [Joseph Addison, Spectator No. 297 (9 February 1712) — Ed.]. He gave, as an Example, Book IX, line 11:

          “That brought into the World a World of woe”

Sadly, there are to be found too many other conceited Phrases of this Nature:

          “Thy face, and Morn return’d, for I this Night,
          Such night till this I never pass’d, have dream’d,
          If dream’d, not as I oft am wont, of thee,” (V.30-32)

This Repetition of “Night” and “dream’d” imports nothing to the Thought but an unnecessary Ponderousness.  Such repetition is the small change of literature, making a loud Jingling and weighing down one’s Pockets, while purchasing little of Value. This Kind of affected Cleverness give the very opposite Impression from what it intends.

A similar Effect in another Passage is wrought by the Repetition of “givers/gifts” and “large/bestow”:

                                                  “well we may afford
          Our givers thir own gifts, and large bestow
          From large bestowd, where Nature multiplies” (V.316-318)

However, worst of all, in my Opinion, is this wretched Piece of broadside Doggerel, utterly unworthy of a Poet of Milton’s Abilities:

          “So he with difficulty and labour hard
          Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour hee;” (II.1021-1022)

These Lines have both too much and too many: too much Repetition (“difficulty/labour”), and too many Syllables, each being compos’d of eleven instead of the requisite ten. One lacks a Word to describe such low Stuff; sinking does not convey adequately the Depths to which the Poet has plumbed here. Plummeting methinks is the better Verb. Another Example of too many Syllables in a Line appears at Book IX, l. 570:

          “What thou commandst and right though shouldst be obeyd”

The third and final Kind of Sinking in Milton that I wish to remark upon is that Sin of the Age in which Milton liv’d, I mean Punning. As my Lord SHAFTESBURY noted of the British Muses in earlier Times, they “lisp’d as in their Cradles: and their stammering Tongues, which nothing besides their Youth and Rawness can excuse, have hitherto spoken in wretched Pun and Quibble. Our Dramatick SHAKESPEAR, our FLETCHER, JOHNSON, and our Epick MILTON preserve this Style” [Shaftesbury, Characteristicks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times (1711), Vol. I, p. 217 — Ed.]. Thankfully, this false Taste is in its Declination. However, it is all too common in Paradise Lost. Take, as an example of this false sort of Wit, the following, which equivocates between two Senses of “light”:

          “On mee as on thir natural center light
          Heavie, though in thir place.” (X. 740-741)

The next Example is doubly Faulty, first by mere Virtue of its being a Pun, but more, using such a Pun as an Occasion of scoring Points against a theological Adversary, in this Instance the Romish Church. Sin and Death build a bridge between Earth and Hell:

          “Now had they brought the work by wondrous Art
          Pontifical, a ridge of pendent Rock” (X.312-313)

Here Milton equivocates between the Latin pontis (“Bridge”) and “Pontiff”, implying that Popery is the surest way to Hell. However, in speaking of a Time before there was any such Thing as a Reform’d or a Roman Catholick Church, such a Reference is anachronistick, breaking the Spell which has hitherto transported the Reader from the sublime Beginning of the World and our first Progenitors, to the present fallen World of unseemly religious Polemick. Even worse, as if afraid the Pun had passed by the Reader insufficiently admir’d, he has another try at the same Piece of low Raillery a mere few Lines on, where he again equivocates between pontis and pontifex:

          “And at the brink of Chaos, neer the foot
          Of this new wondrous Pontifice…” (X.348)

But perhaps I am being too nice, too finical in my Criticism, since for even all these Blemishes are in the Balance found as nothing when compar’d to the innumerable lofty and sublime Thoughts and Sentiments express’d in Paradise Lost. If there be any excuse for my presuming to point out this great Poet’s little Vices, it is that Mr. Addison in his Spectators hath already done admirably in instructing us as to his many great Virtues.

I am, Sir,
              Ever your Friend and Admirer,
                                                  Jos. Darlington, Esq.

Of Libertines

September 9, 1754

My Dear Mr. Avenger,

I thank you very much for the lyrical Works you pass’d along to me, by that inimitable poetical Duo of Mr. GUNNS and Mr. ROSES. I admit I do not much care for their Work, and yet, there was one of their Songs in particular that caus’d me to give over some little Time to Reflection. You know the one to which I refer, for it is that inimitable Ode “to Mr. BROWNSTONE,” which runs,

          I get up around seven,
          I Get out of Bed around nine,
          And I don't worry about nothing, no,
          ‘Cause worrying’s a waste of my time.

          The Show usually starts around seven,
          We go on Stage around nine,
          Get on the Bus about eleven
          Sipping a Drink and feeling fine.

The Verses delineate in very evocative Fashion the Regimen (if it may be so-called) of one given over to a Life of Debauchery, who makes it his Habit to turn Day into Night, and Night into Day. It puts me in Mind of a very obscene Performance by my Lord ROCHESTER. I blush to reproduce it, but since we are become free with each other, you will of course forgive me:

          I Rise at Eleven, I Dine about Two,
          I get drunk before Seven, and the next thing I do;
          I send for my Whore, when for fear of a Clap,
          I Spend in her hand, and I spew in her Lap;
          There we quarrel, and scold, till I fall asleep,
          When the Bitch, growing bold, to my Pocket does creep;
          Then slyly she leaves me, and to revenge th’affront,
          At once she bereaves me of Money and C—nt.
          If by chance then I wake, hot-headed and drunk
          What a coyle do I make for the loss of my Punk?
          I storm, and I roar, and I fall in a rage,
          And missing my Whore, I bugger my Page:
          Then crop-sick, all Morning, I rail at my Men,
          And in Bed I lye Yawning till Eleven again.

[Poems on Several Occasions By the Right Honourable, The E of R (1680) pp. 59-60 — Ed.]

This sort of Life, or rather waking Death, I observ’d in my Youth amongst some Sparks or young Bucks I knew at the Inns of Court, Gentlemen of an independent Fortune, who, needing not to follow the Law as a Profession, nor indeed to earn any kind of Living, it having been earned already for them by their more virtuous Progenitors, gave themselves over to an Education of their own devising, which consisted, so far as I cou’d tell, of Dicing, Wenching, Drinking, and Roaring — with a liberal helping of Free-thinking scraped together from the Dregs of the Coffee-Houses and the worst Sort of Books.

Some few of these my Acquaintances eventually escapt without coming to a bad End, either through the good Offices of a wise Father who refus’d to further Finance such Studies, or through the natural cooling of the Spirits that is often the natural Concomitant of Age and Responsibility.

The remainder of these Fellows of whom I speak, at one Time or other, died Martyrs to Vice. Such Men, while trudging along the Stations of their Cross, make of themselves Markers or Way-signs for the rest of us. This is almost the only Utility these dubious Heroes had to offer their Country in the Sacrifice of their miserable Lives.

The Libertine does not dwell in his House, but rather haunts it. Like an evil Spirit, he walks all Night to disturb his Family, but is never seen by Day. Thro’ his frequent resort to the Company of unwholesome Women, he finds himself struck by the outward Signs of his Sin, and what he loses by Venus, he wou'd recover by Mercury, a Medicine oft worse than that which it is meant to cure. [Mercury was the standard medical treatment for venereal disease — Ed.]

As the Years pass by him insensibly and mark'd by naught but his increasing Excesses, the Libertine’s Pleasures become Things rather to be endured than enjoy’d; yet endure them he does, tho' with less Grace and Fortitude than others endure their Pains. In short, he is like that Natta, whom PERSIUS describ’d thus:

          non pudet ad morem discincti vivere Nattae?
          sed stupet hie vitio et fibris increvit opimum
          pingue, caret culpa, nescit quid perdat, et alto
          demersus summa rursus non bullit in unda.

[“Are you not ashamed to live after the fashion of the abandoned Natta? A man deadened by vice, whose heart is overlaid with callouses, who has no sense of sin, no knowledge of what he is losing, and is sunk so deep that he sends up no bubble to the surface?” Persius, Satires, III.30-34 — Ed.]

          See him in Sin’s Abyss insensate drop;
          He sinks, and sends no Bubble to the Top.

I am, as always,
     Your obed’nt & most humble serv’t,
          Jos. Darlington, Esq.
               Darlington Close,
               Horton-cum-Studley, Oxf.

Of the Benevolence of the Deity

December 4, 1754

My Dear Mr. Avenger,

‘Tis out of the great Respect I have for your Wisdom and Learning that I write to solicit your Opinion of an Argument I have come across in my Lord SHAFTESBURY’s Works. I shou’d very much like to have your Reflections on this ingenious bit of Reasoning of his Lordship, who was attempting to prove the benevolence of the Deity. I find myself in Disagreement with him, and since, as you know, I idolize this great Man, I must therefore suspect it is me who is mistaken. For this Reason, I seek your Judgment in this little Matter.

The Divine Mind, says my Lord, must really be benevolent, because Malice can only come from an Opposition of particular Interests, and since the Deity cannot be sayd to have any such particular Interests (His Mind being in every respect universal, and He being powerful enough to overcome any Opposition to His Interest in an Instant), it follows that He cannot be said to bear any Malice towards his Creatures. To avoyd Misrepresentation, I provide here his Lordship’s very Words:

“There is an odd way of reasoning, but in certain Distempers of Mind very sovereign to those who can apply it; and it is this: ‘There can be no Malice but where Interests are oppos’d. A universal Being can have no Interest opposite; and therefore can have no Malice.’ If there be a general Mind, it can have no particular Interest: But the general Good, or Good of the Whole, and its own private Good, must of necessity be one and the same. It can intend nothing besides, nor aim at any thing beyond, nor be provok’d to any thing contrary. So that we have only to consider, whether there be really such a thing as a Mind which has relation to the Whole, or not. For if unhappily there be no Mind, we may comfort our selves, however, that Nature has no Malice: If there be really a Mind, we may rest satisfy’d, that it is the best-natur’d one in the World” [Shaftesbury, Characteristicks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times (1711), Vol. I, pp. 39-40 — Ed.].

‘Tis a pretty Argument indeed. And tho’ asserting the Benevolence of the supreme Maker is certainly sound Divinity, with which I wou’d not quibble, yet ‘tis not sound Philosophy. For his Lordship’s first Premise, that all Malice must spring from the Opposition of particular Interests, stands it self in need of Demonstration. Indeed, we might imagine for a Moment, for the mere sake of idle Speculation, that which ‘tis Heresy to believe in good earnest, that the Deity, far from being benevolent, is indeed purely malicious. Let us, I say, imagine this, whilst still allowing that He has no particular Interests; such a Deity might still be said to possess disinterested Malice. Disinterested Malice, tho’ thankfully rare, yet we must admit that there are those few moral Monsters among us who, implanted with the Seed of pure Evil, may possess it in some considerable degree. Indeed, if we take an honest Accounting of our inward Souls, of those secret Springs of our Actions, we must admit that we are at Times our selves moved from a Maliciousness that is best describ’d as disinterested. We thus differ from the moral Monsters of our Species more in Degree than in Kind. Such is the Patrimony of that original Sin of our first Parents.

The Spectacles presented in the Bear-Garden for our dubious Edification, in which we revel in watching such a noble Beast torn apart by Dogs, attest to this disinterested Malice, for in the absence of a Wager, we cannot be said to have a particular Interest in whether Bear or Dog is destroy’d; we simply wish to take joy in the suffering of another Creature whose Existence bears no other Relation to our own. Now, one supposes this might be characterized as an interested Malice, our real Interest being the supposed Profit gotten by being entertain’d rather than in the more monetary Profit to be had by wagering.

Yet in Truth, it is still a disinterested Malice. For first, there can be no Doubt that taking any kind of Pleasure in the Misfortune or Suffering of a Fellow-Creature is an Example of what we call Malice. Second, where that Fellow-Creature (as I said) bears no Relation to me, nor to my Interests, then this Malice must needs be disinterested. At bottom, it is Suffering as such that I take Pleasure in, whether it be the Suffering of the Bear or of one of his canine Tormentors. The Bear-Garden represents simply the Occasion to satisfy this perverse Lust. This is what makes a Taste for such Spectacles vicious in the utmost degree. If the Bear were attacking me, and if in fending it off, I caused it much Hurt, tho’ my taking Pleasure in its Hurt wou’d still be vicious, it wou’d be less so than where I take Pleasure in hurting it unprovok’d.

(The seeming inability of my Neighbours to comprehend this has made me the Laughing-Stock of this Neighbourhood, for I cannot take any Joy in the Hunt and abhor its Cruelty; what they see as mere effeminacy in me, I flatter myself in thinking is a Mark of no little Vertue.)

Rising from the Bear-Garden and the Prize-Fight to the bloody Productions of our English tragick Stage, this same disinterested Malice is evident among audiences of the better Sort. The Portrayal of the gruesome Death of a tragick Hero, perhaps with all his Friends, Servants and Kin piled up in a bloody Heap of Dead around him, is the preferr’d Occasion for People of Quality to Vent this same sort of Malice. The Taste for such refin’d Atrocity is a Vice barely mitigated by the Fact that the Suffering and Death portray’d is fictional only. Perhaps, if the Play be well-writ, it will contain some Instructive Moral, but any such Edification is wholly undone by this peculiar Habit of our English Authors of catering to the baser Elements of our Nature whilst they presume to instruct. Why cannot the Violence happen off-Stage? Why must the Audience be made to watch a Man disembowel himself before them, that they might believe they have got their Shilling’s worth from the Entertainment?

It may be that amongst all the earthly Creation, it is only Mankind that may be motivated by this pure, disinterested Malice. But if Man is made in God’s Image, and if a Man might be radically evil in this Way, why may not the Deity be so too? I must admit to you, dear Friend, that in my darker Hours, I cannot look upon this Theatre of Pain without being led to reflect that its Manager must be perverse.

Such a kind of unmotivated Malice as I have been describing is near as evil a Thing as can be imagin’d. It shou’d lead us to consider the possibility that disinterestedness, however virtuous it may be in a Judge or a publick Minister, yet on other Occasions is perhaps not always that Vertue or Good it is imagin’d to be by some, including my Lord Shaftesbury. I am here reminded of an Observation of the late Lord Bishop of DURHAM, who said that “Disinterestedness is so far from being in it self commendable, that the utmost possible Depravity which we can in Imagination conceive is that of disinterested Cruelty” [Joseph Butler, Fifteen Sermons Preached at the Rolls Chapel (1726), Preface, para. 39  ̶  Ed.].

Thus, Lord Shaftesbury’s Demonstration leaves us only with the uncomfortable Contemplation that either the Deity is wholly benevolent or else He is possess’d of the worst Kind of Maliciousness imaginable, the disinterested Kind. If this were the Case (which I hope it is not), it wou’d seem, then, that like other Characters stamp’d with the Impress of Greatness, the Almighty does nothing by half Measures.

Such are my unorthodox thoughts on the Matter. Pray, show this to no one, but rather burn it, and send me your Reply by the next Post.

As always, I am, Sir,
           Your humble Servant, etc.
                   Jos. Darlington, Esq.
                           Darlington Close
                           Horton-Cum-Studley, Oxon.

Of Moral Physiognomy

December 21, 1757

Dear Mr. Avenger,

In your last, you told me of a witty Author of your Age (Mr. ORWELL, I believe you call’d him), who declar’d that by his fiftieth Year, every Man hath the Face he deserves. This is more than mere Wit on your Author’s Part, for only a little Reflexion will convince us that that Action which is oft repeated, over a Course of many Years, must needs leave its Traces upon a Man’s bodily Constitution. We ought not to be surpriz’d in discovering that the angry cholerick Man, who inclines much to Displays of Rage, being oft flushed, will carry with him a perpetual redness of visage, even in his cooler Hours. And your gloomy and splenetick Fellow, being much given to the furrowing of his Brow, will in Time find he hath carv’d deep Furrows thereon. Indeed, I once knew a Man, of this Neighbourhood, a Drunkard and perpetual Gin-Sot, whose Hand had cramp’d it self into a veritable Claw from the constant grasping of his Mug, which he was never without. He hath long since pass’d from this Vale of Tears, a Martyr to his particular Vice, his Children put upon the Parish.

Not only will our outward Actions, by much Repetition, produce alterations of the outward Body, but our inwards, that is, our Passions and Affections, if they be swol’n to steady Dispositions, will also work their inevitable Effects upon the outward Physiognomy. It is for this Reason that my Lord VERULAM declar’d that “the Lineaments of the Body do disclose the Disposition and Inclination of the Mind in general” [Francis Bacon, Of the Proficience and Advancement of Learning (1605), Second Book, IX.2 — Ed.].

The reading of Character from Body and Countenance is not modern Philosophy, but rather ancient Lore. We read in the courtly SENECA that omnia rerum omnium, si observentur, indicia sunt et argumentum morum ex minimis quoque licet capere: inpudicum et incessus ostendit et manus mota et unum interdum responsum et relatus ad caput digitus et flexus oculorum. Inprobum risus, insanum vultus habitusque demonstrat [“all acts are always significant, and you can gauge character by even the most trifling signs. The lecherous man is revealed by his gait, by a movement of the hand, sometimes by a single answer, by his touching his head with his finger, by the shifting of his eye. The scamp is shown up by his laugh; the madman by his face and general appearance” Epistles 52.12 — Ed.]. (You shou’d know, my good Avenger, that in the Roman Times, scratching the Head with one’s little Finger was taken as a sure Sign that a Man was a Molly, that is, a Member of that infamous Race of Woman-Haters, practisers of that abominable Vice which shou’d ever be passed over in Silence.) In time, these outward Signs of Character become stamp’d upon us through much Repetition. Whether we will or no, in the very process of Age, we reveal our Minds to the World; our Souls are laid bare to Friend and Foe alike through our Habits and steady Dispositions.

You see, we wear Footpaths upon our Bodies in the Course of our Doings. Both our Virtues and our Vices leave their indelible Marks. And so it is that nec auguria novi nec mathematicorum caelum curare soleo, ex vultibus tamen hominum mores colligo, et cum spantiantem vidi, quid cogitet scio (PETRON. Satyr. 126) [“I know nothing of omens, and I never attend to the astrologer’s sky, but I read character in a man’s face, and when I see him walk, I know his thoughts.” Petronius Arbiter, Satyricon, ch. 126 — Ed.].

But the Relation of Cause and Effect may also run in the reverse Direction, from the Body to the Mind. That ill Action which is oft repeated will beat a Path to ease the Way for its after-Travellers, the Result being a well-worn Road to customary Vice. Where we once stick at committing some one Indiscretion the first Time, the third, fourth, or fifth Time finds our Will less reticent and more yielding, until she hath become a very Courtizan of easy Virtue. Whence it is that my Lord SHAFTESBURY justly observes that “the least step into Villainy or Baseness, changes the Character and Value of a Life” (Characteristicks Vol. I, p. 121).

The difficult Passage of the first Traveller invariably makes the Passage of the next Traveller just so much easier. And if enough Time be not left for the Thickets and Brambles to grow back, the soil becomes packt, trodden down, and instead of a mere Footpath, a fixt and permanent Road is form’d. As the divine EPICTETUS warns us, “the man who has had a Fever, and then recover’d, is not the same as he was before the Fever, unless he has experienced a compleat Cure. Something like this happens also with the Affections of the Mind. Certain Imprints and Weals are left behind on the Mind, and unless a Man erases them perfectly, the next time he is scourged upon the old Scars, he has Weals no longer but Wounds” [Discourses, II.18 — Ed.].

To bring this my tedious Lesson to a close, it is wise Advice when ’tis said that if we wish to gain knowledge of a Man’s Vices, we shou’d canvass his Enemies; if we wou’d know more of his Virtues, we shou’d speak with his particular Friends; and where we wou’d know about his Habits, Customs, and Times of coming and going, we shou’d press his Servants. But no little Intelligence can be glean’d of all these things by the mere observing of his Outwards, his Form, his Countenance, and his Frame.

I am, Sir, as allways, your Servant,
Jos: Darlington, Esq.
Darlington Close
Horton-cum-Studley, Oxon.

Of Raillery

April 6, 1757

My Dear Mr. Avenger,

Since we are become familiar, you must by now have recogniz’d that my Admiration for my Lord SHAFTESBURY knows no bounds; it borders upon Idolatry. His is a Muse at once both elegant in Expression and profound in Philosophy. This is a rare mixture indeed, for with the exception of the Clergy, there is perhaps no Tribe of Writers less polite than your profound Philosophers, while your witty and elegant Authors too often do little more than frolick in the Shallows of useful Knowledge. And there are always, of course, your mere Grub Street Scribblers, who manage to excell in both these Faults; these are literary Mercenaries, who make a nasty Meal of what their betters sh―t.

(I pray thee, excuse me my coarse Mode of Expression, but as I said, we are now become familiar.)

And yet, I have ever been uncomfortable with my Lord Shaftesbury’s Doctrine of Ridicule as a Test of Truth. Methinks his uncommon dislike of Hypocrisy, and of grave Church-Writers, has led his noble Genius down an errant Path. The best way, thought he, to pull the Mask from off such Hypocrisy was to cause it to be laugh’d at. Where we cannot demonstrate the Error or Knavishness of such Divines through Argument, we ought to do it through Raillery. I find myself unable to comprehend why there shou’d be a necessary or even reliable Connexion between that which is humourous, and that which is true. Not being myself competent to argue against this View, but knowing it in my Heart to be mistaken, I have chosen instead to assume that my Lord intends such Raillery to combat not the Arguments but merely the Ill-Humour of his Adversaries. I flatter him thus, rather than entertain the Notion that my beloved Shaftesbury might be mistaken in his Opinion.

It is therefore with a paradoxical mixture of Satisfaction and Disappointment that I find my Reservations about this Doctrine of Ridicule express’d plainly and judiciously in a late Book by the Reverend Mr. BROWN, entituled Essays on the Characteristicks, which has but just come into my Hands [John Brown, Essays on the Characteristics of the Earl of Shaftesbury (London: C. Davis, 1751) ― Ed.].

I find myself in compleat Concurrence with the Observation of Mr. Brown, that to make Laughter the Test of what may be rightly laugh’d at, wou’d be as if we were “to make Fear the Test of Danger, or Anger the Test of Injury” (p. 94). In all these things, the Passions may mislead us. I may be afear’d where no Danger lurks, and I may be angry at a Trifle. In all such Matters, ‘tis Reason which must tell us if we laugh with Propriety.

“’Tis the Province of Reason alone, to correct the Passions,” quoth Mr. Brown (p. 14). To this the Author of a Treatise of Human Nature, who styles himself an Experimental Moralist, might well reply, that a Passion, much like the Force or Impetus of a Body in Motion, is best oppos’d by another, stronger, Passion. However, this Opinion of Mr. HUME’s tells us nothing concerning Truth. After all, witty Jack may make a pleasing Jest upon angry Tom, thereby diverting or damp’ning the latter’s ill-Humour, while for all that, both Jack and Tom may wallow in equal Ignorance upon whatever is the Matter in Contention, like two Clowns or Rusticks pitted ‘gainst each other in a School-Disputation. ‘Tis plain Logick that, where two Parties are oppos’d upon some Point, altho’ at least one Party must needs be wrong, neither need be right.

Even those Works of the Muses which purport to affect the Imagination, must bear the Stamp of Probability ― that is, must wear the Aspect of Truth ― if they are to impart their wonted Effect upon the Passions, for, quoth Mr. Brown, “every Representation of Poetry or Eloquence, which only apply to the Fancy and Affections, must finally be examined and decided upon, must be try’d, rejected, or receiv’d as the reasoning Faculty shall determine. And thus, REASON alone is the Detector of Falsehood, and the TEST OF TRUTH” (pp. 40-41). Poets must make their Addresses to old Father Reason if they wish to gain an Entrance to the Chamber of Lady Imagination.

My Lord Shaftesbury approves of ARISTOTLE’s advice to “oppose your Opponent’s serious Arguments by Raillery, and his Raillery by serious Argument” [Aristotle, Rhetoric, 1.3.18 ― Ed.]. But if your Opponent’s serious Argument also be nevertheless true, what good can Raillery do, except to detract from the Virtues of his Argument? What is needful is an examination of the Argument in a cool Hour, using ― what else? ― Reason. To give all over to Jest and Raillery, were not only to Fail to deliver Light unto the Eyes of others, but to succeed in putting out our own Eyes at the same Time.

Even our noble Author admits as much. Tho’ I have no Reason to suspect him of being anything other than a faithful Adherent of our most holy Protestant Religion, yet my Lord wou’d have it that:

“Happy it was for us, that when Popery had got possession, Smithfield was us’d in a more tragical way. Many of our first Reformers, ’tis fear’d, were little better than Enthusiasts: and God knows whether a Warmth of this kind did not considerably help us in throwing off that spiritual Tyranny. So that had not the Priests, as is usual, prefer’d the love of Blood to all other Passions, they might in a merrier way, perhaps, have evaded the greatest Force of our reforming Spirit. I never heard that the antient Heathens were so well advis’d in their ill Purpose of suppressing the Christian Religion in its first Rise, as to make use, at any time, of this Bart’lemy-Fair Method. But this I am persuaded of, that had the Truth of the Gospel been any way surmountable, they wou’d have bid much fairer for the silencing it, if they had chosen to bring our primitive Founders upon the Stage in a pleasanter way than that of Bear-Skins and Pitch-Barrels.” [Characteristicks, Vol. I, pp. 28-29 ― Ed.]

In other words, had the Popish Persecutors of our English Protestants followed a different Course, and employ’d Raillery instead of Fire and Sword on their Enemys, perhaps this Realm had remain’d Catholick still. In which case, as Mr. Brown rightly notes (p. 75 ff.), Raillery wou’d have caused Falsehood to prevail over Truth, the opposite of the Doctrine’s intended Effect.

Methinks this Doctrine of Ridicule as a Test of Truth relies too much upon the Presumption that he who ridicules is also he who is already in Possession of the Truth. But where this is not the Case, where the Railleur happens to be in the Wrong, may not Raillery do more Harm than Good to the noble Cause of Truth? The same must needs be the Case where, as so often happens, it is not known with certainty which of the contending Parties is in Possession of the Truth, tho’ each believes himself so. Each may employ his satyrick Darts upon his Adversary, while we who look on are no more the wiser for their Trouble, once the Dust of Disputation has settl’d.

I am inclin’d to agree with the elegant Author of Fitzosborne’s Letters, who writes that “it is not every Arm, however, that is qualified to manage this formidable Bow. The Arrows of Satyr, when they are not pointed by Virtue, as well as Wit, recoil upon the Hand that directs them, and wound none but him from whom they proceed…. There is nothing to be dreaded,” says he, “from a Satyrist of known Dishonesty, but his Applause” [William Melmoth, The Letters of Sir Thomas Fitzosborne, on Several Subjects (1742), “Letter XLVIII” (5th edition, London: R. and J. Dodsley, 1758), pp. 237-238 ― Ed.]. Tho’ Satyr may occasionally render good Service unto Truth, yet ‘tis a prickly Weapon, to be wielded only by Characters of Superior Merit, who are more interested in filling the Minds of Men with useful Knowledge, than in winning the vain and unmeaning Applause of a shallow Mob.

I am, Sir, your servant, etc.
Jos. Darlington, Esq.
Darlington Close,
Horton-cum-Studley, Oxon.

Of Beauty

February 1, 1757

My Dear Mr. Avenger,

Some time ago I sent you some of my Thoughts on the Sublime. I must admit my shame that in that Epistle, I most unjustly accus’d Scotchmen of having Souls of too heavy a Nature to understand such a lofty subject as the Sublime. For there has just come into my Hands a Manuscript, being a first attempt at an “Essay upon Taste” from an Acquaintance in North-Britain, one Mr. GERARD [Alexander Gerard, later published as An Essay on Taste (London: A. Millar, 1759) — Ed.].

The work is express’d in a nervous Style, too direct, and perhaps too philosophical for my complete Approbation, but nonetheless wrote in proper English, without those Scotticisms which too often infect the literary Productions of our North-British Brethren. But most importantly, it contains more of Truth than of Falsehood or Folly, and has many judicious things to say on that peculiar Sense or Faculty, thro’ which is discover’d those peculiar Characters of the Sublime and Beautiful in Objects of Judgment.

De gustibus non est disputandum, “of Taste there is no disputing” is an Observation worn to a Proverb, so interminable are the Contentions to which Judgments of artistic Merit seem apt to give rise. In a similar Vein we might say that there is no disputing Philosophers’ Opinions about Taste itself, so many and divers are the Theories offer’d to explain the original of this peculiar sixth Sense that is the patrimony of our Species.

Returning to our Manuscript, Mr. Gerard is of the Opinion that Beauty consists in Ease of Apprehension, or what he calls a “facility in the Conception of an Object” [Ibid. p. 31 – Ed.]. When we behold an Object of Beauty, we feel a sense of Pleasure at the Ease and Immediacy with which we comprehend its Characters. (Indeed, I dare say, we derive Pleasure not merely from the Object it self, but we are also well-pleas’d with ourselves and our own Cleverness, for being so quick of Apprehension.)

And yet, we are still led to ask, “What is it in this Object, what are the peculiar Characters that impress themselves in such an efficient Manner upon the Mind of him who apprehends?” For it is not enough to say that the beautiful Object strikes us with Pleasure by being easily comprehended. What we wish to know is ― Why is this Object easy of apprehension, while that Object is difficult? For it would seem to be therein that the Beauty of the Object lies; therein lies the Cause of our Judgment of the Object’s Beauty.

In considering of this facility of apprehension, Professor HUTCHESON wou’d identify it with the Pleasure arising from the apprehension of a Contrast in those Objects which display either Uniformity amidst Variety OR Variety amidst Uniformity [Francis Hutcheson, An Inquiry concerning Beauty, Order, Harmony and Design (1725) – Ed.]. Whether this be the case I confess I know not, tho’ how a Fly, afloat in the midst of a Soup Bowl ― a seeming Instance of his Variety amidst Uniformity ― may be call’d beautiful is quite beyond my understanding. Such a singular kind of “Beauty” hath no Charms for me.

Gerard and Hutcheson seem to lavish their utmost Attention on this feeling of Pleasure to which Beauty gives rise, and to the seeming facility for experiencing it, a facility with which the Human Mind seems uniquely endow’d. They expend too little Effort in trying to understand the Characteristicks which are the Cause of the Pleasure. It is not enough to tell us that we experience Pleasure when we apprehend the Beauty of an Object. Again, we wish to know in what consists the Beauty of the Object that is the Source of our Pleasure.

If Beauty be a Quality found in Objects of Beauty, then according to the most ingenious Philosophers, amongst whom must be number’d Monsieur DES CARTES and the celebrated Mr. LOCKE, it must either be a primary or a secondary Quality. The former are those Qualities which inhere in Objects themselves, independent of Observation, such as Solidity, Extension, Motion, Number, and Figure. If a Ball is round, it retains this Figure whether there exists anyone to observe this Rotundity.

Secondary Qualities are better describ’d as a Power in Objects of producing certain Sensations in the perceiving Subject, Examples of these being Colour, Taste, Sound, and Smell. A Ball is not red because there is “Redness” inhering in it. Rather, given a certain Quantity of Light, and competent Powers of Sight in the Observer, there is somewhat inhering in the material Constitution of the Ball ― somewhat in the Complexion of its primary Qualities ― that, combin’d with all of these Conditions, produces in the Observer a Sensation of Redness.

Now, there can be little doubt that if Beauty be a Quality, it must be of this latter, secondary kind, tho' it may be of a more complex Nature. If, for example, a Painting strikes us as beautiful at least in part because of the particular Contrast between certain of its Colours, the which being secondary Qualities, then the Beauty of the Painting must needs be, to that extent at least, dependent upon the Nature and Configuration of its secondary Qualities.

This dependency of secondary Qualities upon the Senses and Apprehension of him who perceives them, wou’d to untutor’d Minds seem to make it bootless to dispute Judgments of Taste. As Mr. HUME remarks, “no Objects are, in themselves, desirable or odious, valuable or despicable; but that Objects acquire these Qualities from the particular Character and Constitution of the Mind, which surveys them” [David Hume, Essays, “The Sceptic” – Ed.]. And yet, we need not be too disturb’d by this, for, says he, “Though Colours were allowed to lie only in the Eye, would Dyers or Painters ever be less regarded or esteemed? There is a sufficient Uniformity in the Senses and Feelings of Mankind, to make all these Qualities the Objects of Art and Reasoning, and to have the greatest Influence on Life and Manners.”

A Man’s Faculties are as an Instrument, so attuned as to vibrate in Harmony with those of others, when pluck’d by the Fingers of the same Player. We need not doubt the existence of Musick or of the Player because some few of these Instruments are out of tune. But who is this Player?

I am of the Opinion of my Lord SHAFTESBURY, that all Matter, taken by itself, is dead, a shapeless Chaos. It is only given Form ― only becomes Intelligible ― by some Mind. This is the Foundation and Original of the Plastick Arts, and indeed of all the Arts generally. But just as there are Minds that form, so is there too some Mind that additionally forms those Minds that form [see Shaftesbury, Characteristicks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times (1711), Vol. II, “The Moralists; a Philosophical Rhapsody” ― Ed.]. All the World and every thing in it is a single Masterwork, wrought by the Supreme creating Mind. “The Spirit of Man is the Candle of the Lord,” as the Scripture teacheth [Proverbs 20:27 ― Ed.]. ‘Tis the Lamp He hath given us, by which we may illuminate his Work. ‘Tis the Spark of His divine Fire. We are so form’d as to be able to understand His Creation, and to grasp the Beauties it contains, since we are, after all, a Part of it. As intellectual Creatures, we are in the singular Position of being, at one and the same Time, both Figures upon His Canvas and Connoisseurs of its grand Design.

Here is as good a Place as any for me to end this rhapsodizing, being by my Nature ill-suited to play the Enthusiastick.

I am, Sir,
Your humble Servant, etc.
Jos. Darlington, Esq.
Darlington Close,
Horton-cum-Studley, Oxon.

P. S. Mrs. Darlington also wishes to be remember’d to the Venerable Mr. Avenger, and sends her Compliments to Mrs. Avenger.

Of Justice

June 4, 1756

Sir,

“What is Truth?” said a jesting PILATE, and wou’d not stay for an Answer. So many are the divers characters in which Justice is display’d, so various and confus’d are the Robes in which this mute Lady is cloathed, that there are those who wou’d with as much Ease wash their Hands of her too.

Iustitia est constans et perpetua voluntas ius suum cuique tribuendi, instructed the Emperor JUSTINIAN, to young Men ent’ring upon the Study of the Laws, “Justice is the constant and perpetual Will to give to each Man what is his Due,” to which he adds that iuris praecepta sunt haec: honeste vivere, alterum non laedere, suum cuique tibuere, “The Maxims of Justice are these: to live uprightly, to do no Harm, and to give each his Due” [Justinian, Institutiones, Lib. I, tit. I – Ed.].

But to this, we might reply as TULLY once did, that nec cognovi quequam, qui maiore auctoritate nihil diceret, “Never have I known anyone who said Nothing with more Authority” [Cicero, De Divinatione, 2.67 – Ed.], for altho’ this Definition offends not our Judgment, neither does it increase our Understanding. It is precisely what is a Man’s Due according to the Rules of Justice that we wish were known. Justice tells us to give to each Man what is his, but it fails to tell us what is his.

Fortunately, Justinian tells us that Justice is voluntas, or the Will to give each what is his. And since this Will is constans et perpetua, it must therefore be a Virtue inhering in a Man’s Character. Justice, then, is the characteristical Virtue of the just Man. But again, we are left with little more Knowledge than we possessed before; for it remains for us to discover who is the just Man? a question which, methinks, cannot be answered without previously knowing what is Justice. In other words, we are left wanting Knowledge of that which makes the just Man just. And so we find ourselves lost in a Maze of our own devising, which always brings us back to that Place from whence we set out.

“What is Justice?” ― The characteristical Virtue of the just Man. ― “And what is it about this Virtue that makes the just Man just?” ― Why, it makes him to do that which is just. ― “And what is it that makes what the just Man does just?” ― Why, Justice, of course.

Indeed! Is not this a notable and ingenious Explanation! One that explains using only that which is to be explain’d! This is true Parsimony and prudent husbanding of scarce Words. Intellectual Nourishment is so rationed as to leave the Brain feeling sated whilst the Understanding starves. Such Explanations do for the Mind as much good as a bellyful of Sawdust does for the Body.

The judicious Mr. HUME, in his Enquiry concerning the Principles of Morals, gives us to understand that there are two kinds of Virtues. There are first, the natural Virtues, those which form part of the common Patrimony of Mankind, tho’ different Men possess it in varying Degrees. Such a natural Virtue is Benevolence, or the wish to do good to our fellow Man. It is a Virtue which is more commonly felt than reflected upon, and is the Possession both of the untutor’d Savage and the refin’d European.

Second, there are the artificial Virtues, of which Justice is one, it being a Virtue that only arises when Men begin to inhabit Commonwealths. Justice requires Reflection, whose Task it is to overpower the immediate Sentiments accompanying the natural Virtues. Thus, the Judge, in dispensing Justice, must lay aside his Inclination to act according to Benevolence because, at Law, he cannot bestow the Largess of his Benevolence upon both Sides to a Dispute: Judgment must come at the Expense of one or other of the Parties adjudged.

Fiat iustitia, ruat caelum, “Let Justice be done, tho’ the Heavens fall!”, altho’ as Maxims go this is a harsh and bitter Fruit, yet it bears within it Seeds of Truth: Justice must be always honoured, even against our more immediate Inclinations to do good; it is in truth the Cement of civil Society. Benevolence, betimes, is more like the Ivy, which, however pleasant it be to look upon, oft eats away at the Mortar which holds together the very Edifice upon which it depends, whilst being convinc’d that it shou’d get sole Credit for propping it up. But here I begin to mix my Metaphors.

Sometimes it is not easy to tell Benevolence from Justice, as both concern the doing a good Deed to some Party or other. The distinguishing Mark of an Act of Justice is that it is always done according to some fixt Rule or Maxim. In the story of the Judgment of SOLOMON, no one doubts but that this King display’d superior Wisdom. But we may quibble at calling it Justice, for he acted according to no establish’d Rule. Neither of the Women involv’d in the Dispute cou’d know ahead of time that going to Law wou’d jeopardize the Life of the Infant they fought over. Thus, in Vulgar speech we refer to the “Wisdom of Solomon” but rarely to the “Justice of Solomon”. A little Obstinacy on the true Mother’s Part, or some imperceptible Perturbation in the Mind of the Judge, wou’d have meant the poor Babe’s bloody Doom. That can be no just Proceeding where the Rules are made up along the Way, no matter how felicitous may be their Issue.

I intend not to be understood as saying that Wisdom and Justice are not closely allied, but by depending upon Rules establish’d beforehand, the wise Judge will give Judgment untainted by his narrow Interest or Passion, for truly, says ARISTOTLE, διόπερ άνευ ορέξεως νος ο νόμος εςτίν, “Therefore the Law is Wisdom without Desire” [Politics, 1287a25 ― Ed.]. Where it is concerned with Wisdom, then, Justice concerns the Wisdom of Rules, not of Men, and it is of three Kinds.

First, there is the Justice of the Legislator, whose task it is to devise the best Rules which will determine the Conduct of ev’ry Citizen. He is to do this in an impartial Fashion, never taking his own Profit or Interest into account. His Justice, in short, consists in the giving Laws for the common Good.

Second, there is the Magistrate’s Justice, which is concerned with giving Force and Effect to the Laws in a way consonant with the Principles of Equity, such as the equal application of the Laws to all, and treating like Cases alike. The Magistrate concerns himself only in those Cases where he is disinterested, and where his Passions are not allowed a Voice. If he cannot do this, then the Magistrate must recuse himself.

Third, there is the Justice of the Citizen, whose Place it is to be concerned only with observing the duly enacted Laws of the Legislator and giving Aid and honest Testimony to the Magistrate charg’d with enforcing them. This kind of Justice encompasses the others, for ev’ry Legislator and ev’ry Magistrate must needs be also a Citizen. Nevertheless, it is not to be assum’d that in a Commonwealth of free Men, a Citizen may not express his dissatisfaction with the Injustices of Legislators and Magistrates; he may censure freely. But he must obey promptly.

Of Justice, I think, no Man may say more without perjuring himself.

I am, Sir, your Servant etc.

Joseph Darlington, Esq.
Darlington Close,
Horton-cum-Studley, Oxon.

Of the Natural Knavery of Men

March 10, 1756

To the Venerable Mr. Avenger,

Sir,

I was the other Day involv’d in the renewal of a Lease with one of my Tenants. We had come to an Understanding, as of one Man to another, with respect to Terms, Rents, etc. and had shaked Hands. After writing up the Terms into a Contract and sitting down to sign it, I suddenly became mightily perplex’d (as is my wont) over the philosophical Implications of what we were about.

You see, I was struck by the Absurdity of being obliged to go to the considerable Expense of having my Lawyer contrive a Piece of Parchment, and then have it signed, witness’d and notarised, all of which is merely to repeat, in a new Form, all that we had already agreed to in Words and had seal’d by Shake of Hand. Wherefore the Need, pray, for all this high Ceremony?

Perchance HORACE was correct in opining that iura inventi metu iniusti fateare necesse est, tempora si fastosque velis evolvere mundi [“If you will but turn over the annals and records of the world, you must needs confess that justice was born of the fear of injustice.” Horace, Satires, 1.3.111-112 — Ed.]. Still, if I believed my Tenant were such a Knave as to commit a Fraud upon me, why wou’d I consider entering into any Bargain with such a Character in the first Place? After all, I shou’d rather do Business with a trustworthy Man, even if he shou’d offer me inferior Terms, than to play the Bubble, and Hazard my Wealth upon a bad Wager with a worthless Fellow, one who wou’d as soon pick my Pockets as do Business with me. In short, I shou’d much rather do Business with no Man than with such an one as the latter.

Nay, I cou’d not have thought my Tenant a Knave. Surely I trusted him as much as I wou’d trust any other Man who had given me no previous Cause to doubt his Honour. But there, you see, is the Trouble: in brief, he is a Man, and being such, as Sir Thomas BROWNE hath it, he is a Monster, that is, “a Composition of Man and Beast” [Sir Thomas Browne, Religio Medici, Pt. I, §53 — Ed.] Sadly, we are but fallen Creatures, and tho’ the greatest Part of Humankind shou’d be Honest, or at least Honest the greater Part of the Time, yet some Number needs must be Knaves, and which are which we cannot always tell,

For neither Man nor Angel can discern
Hypocrisie, the only evil that walks
Invisible, except to God alone
[John Milton, Paradise Lost, III: 682-684].

Quite beside the Difficulty of discovering who is a Knave and who is honest, there is our common Predicament, which is that so much must depend upon the being able to trust in the Word of another. Without Trust and plain-dealing, Humankind wou’d be no more civilised than a Troop of mangy Baboons, or what is worse, as violent and unsociable as wild Tygers. In short, instead of being Browne’s composite Monsters, we wou’d be Beasts intire.

Indeed, because so much hangs upon the ability to trust in another’s Word, I find myself in concord with honest old MONTAIGNE, who was of the Opinion that “lying is an accursed Vice, for it is only our Words which bind us together and make us Human. If we but understood the Horror and Gravity of lying we wou’d perceive that it is more deserving of the Stake or the Gibbet than other Crimes” [Michel de Montaigne, “On Liars,” Essays. Darlington is somewhat liberal in his translation — Ed.].

If we must presume in our private Dealings that our Fellows are Rogues, we must be doubly cautious in publick Dealings, where the greater number of Men involv’d must of necessity mean the likelihood of a greater number of Knaves. Tho’ the barest Possibility of Knavery wou’d necessitate Prudence in a Man’s private Affairs, the inexorable Arithmetick of larger Numbers wou’d dictate that Prudence is a most vital Necessity in Politicks. As Mr. HUME judiciously observes, “in contriving any System of Government, and fixing the several Checks and Controuls of the Constitution, every Man ought to be supposed a Knave, and to have no other End, in all his Actions, than private Interest” [David Hume, “Of the Independency of Parliament”, in Essays Moral, Political, and Literary — Ed.]. A most wise Maxim, notwithstanding that the greater Part of those who are Subjects of the Commonwealth are honest Men.

If we must treat Citizens as if they are all Rogues, how much more so must we treat Politicians! The political Man is capable of many a Misdeed which the same Man in his private Capacity would scarce entertain, let alone perform. The plain Truth is, too many are the Temptations to which even the best of Men must be subject, and nowhere is this more true than in Politicks, where Power and Influence present a greater Number of Opportunitys for Thievery, Jobbery, and the picking of the Publick’s Pockets.

I was violently rowz’d from my Reverie by the urging of my Tenant, who was pressing me to put Quill to Parchment, which I did only with an inexplicable Heaviness of Heart, for there immediately came into my Mind the Words of Monsieur BRUYÈRE: “The Invention of legal Instruments to remind Men of what they promised, and to convince them that they did so, is a Shame and a Blot upon the Children of Men” [Jean de La Bruyère, Characters, “Of Mankind,” §27. Again, his translation is rather loose — Ed.].

I remain, Sir, ever your Servant,

Jos. Darlington, Esq.
Darlington Close,
Horton-cum-Studley, Oxon.

Of Remarkable Customs

Below is the latest communication from Mr. Darlington. In it, he relates a tall tale that sounds suspiciously familiar to one found in James D. Wallace’s book Ethical Norms, Particular Cases (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1996), p. 83. Wallace himself got it from another source, who got it from still another source… so it has certainly been making the rounds. In any case, Darlington’s embellished version draws very different implications. Without more ado, here it is.

* * *

January 19, 1756
To the Most Venerable Mr. Avenger,

I was about a Fortnight ago sitting by my Fire with a particular Friend of mine, whiling away a bitterly cold Winter’s Eve, when he related to me the following extraordinary Tale.

“There was once,” quoth my companion, “a certain Tribe or Troop of wild SCYTHIANS living in some distant Region on the Black Sea, a Place envelop’d in Cimmerian Darkness. It so happen’d one evening, that a Pig enter’d into one of their Dwelling-Houses. While the Beast was rooting about, the Building caught fire and burn’d to the Ground.

“Now,” continued he, “the following Day, when the People were picking their way through the still-smold’ring Ruins, they came upon the hot and steaming Carcass of the Pig. In the removing it, some of the People had their Fingers burnt, and in the effort to soothe the Pain, they lickt them. They thereby discover’d the succulent Relish afforded by roasted Pig, the Flesh of which Creature, until this Time, it was their Habit to eat raw.

“However, in their barbarous Minds, untutor’d as they were in any kind of Science, and not being dispos’d to connect particular Effects with more general Causes, they form’d the Resolution that whenever they were seized with a Craving for roasted Pig, a House shou’d be builded and burn’d for the Purpose.”

I express’d my Incredulity at this outlandish Story, thinking it much too absurd to be believ’d. “Have not all Men,” I asked my Friend, “enough common Sense to see that, however delicious roasted Pig might taste, it could not possibly be so good as to warrant such extravagant and prodigal Expenditure, especially amongst a People in so rudimentary a State of Oeconomy? To build and then to destroy a House simply to satisfy one’s fickle Palate was too onerous and expensive a Task to be worth the while, consuming as it wou’d the Labours of an entire Village, from the cutting down and transporting Trees, to the shaping and raising of Timbers. I cannot imagine any Circumstances under which such a Practice of roasting Pigs in burning Houses cou’d ever gain wide Acceptance, nor…”

“Ah! But there are Savages in the Woods of Canada,” interjected my Friend, “who wou’d happily throw all their worldly Possessions into the nearest Body of Water, thereby bankrupting and dooming their Village to Privation and Want for the entirety of the Year to follow, simply to satisfy the Demands of Honour when a neighbouring Tribe visits, for they will not suffer themselves to be outdone in having the Reputation of being the most lavish of Hosts.

“But if you do not care to believe such traveler’s Tales, and you still cannot, as you say, ‘imagine any Circumstances under which such a Practice cou’d gain wide Acceptance,’ simply imagine that a Priest has told them to do it, and has Fenced the Practice ‘round with every kind of solemn and ridiculous Rite, whilst convincing them that roasted Pig is a Gift from the very gods themselves, who will vent their Rage and Spleen upon the hapless People if they durst roast a Pig by some inferior and less costly Method.”

I confess he had confounded me here, for in very Truth there is no Depth a People will not plumb to smooth the ruffled Feathers of a Deity in high Dudgeon. The Fires of Religion have been stoked with many a burnt Offering, both Pig and Human. What I first received from my Friend as an amusing — though dubious — Anecdote, upon Reflection, gave me such a Chill as the blazing Fire beside us cou’d scarce banish.

I am, Sir, ever your Servant,

Jos. Darlington, Esq.
Darlington Close,
Horton-cum-Studley, Oxon.

Of Bees

December 10, 1755
Sir,

I read with great Interest, which you was so good as to share with me, your last, a Discourse of Dr. MANDEVILLE’s Fable of the Bees, one of the most virulent Libels ever made upon the Dignity of Mankind. I find myself in happy Agreement with every Sentiment you express’d therein, and wou’d only wish to subjoin a few Remarks on the Fable’s lack of Originality. For it is truly unoriginal, both in its Speculations, and in the very Conceit upon which it is based.

Indeed, the Comparison of Human Societies to that of Bees is an old Topick, and one which has never yet failed to occur to observant Minds since Honey began to be cultivated. VERGIL, gave over his fourth Georgick to a Rhapsody upon our Insect Brethren, meditating especially upon their natural Sociability, and thus deriving the opposite moral to that of Dr. Mandeville, for the Poet writes ut apium examina non fingendorum favorum causa congregantur, sed, cum congregabilia natura sint, fingunt favos, sic homines, ac multo etiam magis, natura congregat adhibent agendi cogitandique sollertiam [“as swarms of bees do not gather for the sake of making honeycomb but make the honeycomb because they are gregarious by nature, so human beings – and to a much higher degree – exercise their skill together in action and thought because they are naturally gregarious.” Our author has mistaken his sources, for this passage is taken from Cicero, De Officiis, I.157. Virgil did indeed, however, devote his fourth Georgic to bees. — Ed.].

‘Tis probable that Vergil was mining the same Vein as TULLY, according to whom itemque formicae, apes, ciconiae aliorum etiam causa quaedam faciunt. Multo haec coniunctius homines. Itaque natura sumus apti ad coetus, concilia, civitates [“these creatures, and also the ant, the bee, the stork, do certain actions for the sake of others besides themselves. With human beings this bond of mutual aid is far more intimate. It follows that we are by nature fitted to form unions, societies and states”, Cicero, De Finibus, 3.19.63 — Ed.].

The good Doctor, presumably following close upon the Leading Strings of his Tutor, Mr. HOBBES, wou’d have us to believe that Men, like Bees, gather together into Societies for Reason of mere Profit, and wou’d gladly ungather were it become profitable to do so, which is too absurd a Notion to stand in need of Refutation. Much more probable is it that we first gathered together out of a love of Company, and only later discover’d the more material Benefits of social Intercourse.

I cou’d give many more examples to show that Dr. Mandeville’s Conceit is not new. For instance, the noble Emperor ANTONINUS hath writ, “that which is not in the Interest of the Hive cannot be in the Interest of the Bee” [Marcus Aurelius, Meditations, 6.54 — Ed.]. Unfortunately, Dr. Mandeville’s Memory seems here to have failed him, for he unwittingly transpos’d this, and instead of deriving the Interest of the Bee from that of the Hive, found the Reverse, a much different Sentiment, and one of which the Emperor wou’d doubtless disapprove. However, as I have already noted, even the good Emperor himself is here only partly correct, for although what is good for the Hive is good for the Bee, that Good is not the sole Reason for the Bee’s remaining with the Hive.

Among the Moderns, the Comparison of Men with political Animals such as Bees and Ants is a well-trodden Road. The Reverend Dr. CLARKE, in his Discourse of Natural Religion accuses Hobbes of endeavouring to prove that War and Contention is more natural to Men, than to Bees or Ants [see Samuel Clarke, A Discourse concerning the Unchangeable Obligations of Natural Religion (1706), 6th edition, 1724, p. 87 — Ed.].

Against such a Claim, my Lord SHAFTESBURY accurately observes that “in the other Species of Creatures around us, there is found generally an exact Proportionableness, Constancy and Regularity in all their Passions and Affections; no failure in the care of the Offspring, or of the Society, to which they are united; no Prostitution of themselves; no Intemperance, or Excess, in any kind. The smaller Creatures, who live as it were in Citys (as Bees and Ants) continue the same Train and Harmony of Life: Nor are they ever false to those Affections, which move them to operate towards their Publick Good” [Shaftesbury, Characteristicks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times (1711), Vol. II, p. 96 — Ed.].

Even so errant an Atheist as Mr. TINDAL, in all other respects such an Enemy to Decency, admits that Virtue is as natural to Man as it is to other sociable Creatures: “The Ants, notwithstanding they have Stings, are crouded in vast Numbers in the same Hillock; and, having all Things in common, seem to have no other Contention among them, but who shall be most active in carrying on the common Interest of their small Republick. And much the same may be said of Bees” [Matthew Tindal, Christianity as Old as the Creation (1730), p. 165 — Ed.].

And finally, POPE wisely advises us to

Learn each small people’s Genius, Policies;
The Ants Republick, and the Realm of Bees;
How those in common all their stores bestow,
And Anarchy without confusion know,
And these for ever, tho’ a Monarch reign,
Their sep’rate Cells and Properties maintain.
Mark what unvary’d Laws preserve their State,
Laws wise as Nature, and fix’d as Fate.
[Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man (1734), Epistle III, ll. 183-190 — Ed.].

This is a very different Lesson from the one Dr. Mandeville wou’d seem to have learned, and his failure to grasp what so many ingenious Authors have endeavour’d to teach him, I can only attribute to some natural Defect in his Morals or his Understanding.

I am, Sir, your humble Servant,

Jos. Darlington, Esq.
Darlington Close,
Horton-cum-Studley, Oxfordshire.

Of Anger

November 14, 1755
Sir,

A Man may have need of Philosophy not only when holding fast against the Wrath or the Blandishments of Tyrants, or in the Smoke and Din of Battle, but also in his dealings with his Family and his Household. I was the other Day entering the Kitchen just as one of my Servants was pouring a Bucketful of scalding Water on the Floor, to which she was about to employ her Mop. The Water landed on my Legs, rendering my Breeches and Shoes sodden. By Luck I was not burn’d, but I found myself immediately as much awash in Rage as I was in Water.

But pray, at whom was I vexed? At the Girl? Why, the poor Wench cou’d have no inkling that I was about to enter the Room, nor was she doing anything which lay outside the normal Course of her Duties. Was I to visit my Anger upon her for doing precisely that which I pay her to do, and for which I wou'd equally visit my Anger upon her for not doing?

It is Man's Misfortune that Anger of such a kind is a most natural Passion, and one which wou’d seem to well up of its own accord, without Reflection. Not only is it natural, but if we are to believe ARISTOTLE, it is also a most necessary Passion, for he wou’d convince us that Courage, that most worthy Virtue, celebrated through the Ages by Moralists and Poets alike, wou’d be impossible without a just Measure of Anger.

This is not only a hoary Opinion of the Ancients, for our modern Mr. HOBBES in his Leviathan defines Anger as “sudden Courage” [See chapter 6 — Ed.], against which Definition the witty and elegant Lord SHAFTESBURY most acutely observ’d that if this be so, we must be made to believe that the Virtue of Courage, as being the Disposition to act courageously, is “Anger constantly returning” [Characteristicks of Men, Manners, Opinions, Times (1711), Vol. I, p. 119 — Ed.]. Hobbes is reputed to have been a Man rare at Definitions, but we here find him involv’d in gross Error, for he does Violence to common Sense in asserting that the Virtue of Courage is the same as the Vice of Irascibility.

Aristotle was somewhat closer to the Mark than Hobbes, for at least he had the good Sense to admit that Anger is not the sole Ingredient in Courage, but that a just Measure of Reason is also wanted. But for this opinion, SENECA justly put him upon the Horns of the following Dilemma: Either Anger is stronger than Reason, or it is not. If it be stronger, then how can Reason limit or restrain Anger to the extent necessary for Courage to be properly controlled and directed? If, however, Reason be the stronger Partner, then why is Anger necessary to Courage at all? [See Seneca, De Ira, 1.8.4-6 — Ed.]

The Stoick School held that Anger, as it is a Passion, must for that very Reason be held suspect. It will always be clouding a Man’s Judgment; it wou’d make us Judges in our own Cause, magnifying the Wrong done us, and demanding unreasonable Restitution. It wou’d have us visit our Vengeance upon the Wrongdoer while we are in no fit State for making a proper Job of it. Here we ought to attend to the Counsel of honest old MONTAIGNE: “Let an hungry Man have Meat; but a Man who wou’d Punish shou’d neither hunger nor thirst for it” [Essays, “Of Anger” — Ed.].

I cannot end without a Remark upon an opinion of Lord VERULAM’s that to calm one’s Wrath, “it is the best Remedy to win Time, and to make a man’s Self believe that the Opportunity of his Revenge is not yet come: But that he Foresees a Time for it, and so to still Himself in the mean Time, and reserve it” [Francis Bacon, Essays (1623), “Of Anger” — Ed.]. Thus he wou’d have us nurse a Resentment in the hopes of forestalling rash Action. He wou’d have us apply a numbing Ointment to the Wound but not a curative one. Notwithstanding, Montaigne gives the opposite Counsel, preferring rather to produce his Passions than to brood over them at his own Expense, for “they grow languid when they have Vent and Expression.”

I confess myself unable to decide between these opposed Reasonings, but I also cannot avoid the Conclusion that it is Danger to coddle a Resentment, for a smoldering Anger may suddenly become an Anger ablaze.

I remain, Sir, ever your humble Servant,

Jos. Darlington, Esq.
Darlington Close,
Horton-cum-Studley, Oxfordshire.