SECTION I.

Produced by Stan Goodman, William Craig, Charles Franks

and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

This is an authorized facsimile of the original book, and was produced in

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Arbor, Michigan, U.S.A.

AN ESSAY on the HISTORY OF CIVIL SOCIETY.

* * * * *

BY ADAM FERGUSON, L. L. D.

CONTENTS

* * * * *

PART I. OF THE GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF HUMAN NATURE.

SECTION I. Of the question relating to the State of Nature

SECTION II. Of the principles of Self Preservation

SECTION III. Of the principles of Union among Mankind

SECTION IV. Of the principles of War and Dissention

SECTION V. Of Intellectual Powers

SECTION VI. Of Moral Sentiment

SECTION VII. Of Happiness

SECTION VIII. The same subject continued

SECTION IX. Of National Felicity

SECTION X. The same subject continued

PART II. OF THE HISTORY OF RUDE NATIONS.

SECTION I. Of the informations on this subject, which are derived from

Antiquity

SECTION II. Of Rude Nations prior to the Establishment of Property

SECTION III. Of rude Nations, under the impressions of Property and

Interest

* * * * *

PART III. OF THE HISTORY OF POLICY AND ARTS.

SECTION I. Of the Influences of Climate and Situation

SECTION II. The History of Political Establishments

SECTION III. Of National Objects in general, and of Establishments and

Manners relating to them

SECTION IV. Of Population and Wealth

SECTION V. Of National Defence and Conquest

SECTION VI. Of Civil Liberty

SECTION VII. Of the History of Arts

SECTION VIII. Of the History of Literature

PART IV. OF CONSEQUENCES THAT RESULT FROM THE ADVANCEMENT OF CIVIL AND

COMMERCIAL ARTS.

SECTION I. Of the Separation of Arts and Professions

SECTION II. Of the Subordination consequent to the Separation of Arts and

Professions

SECTION III. Of the Manners of Polished and Commercial Nations

SECTION IV. The same subject continued

* * * * *

PART V. OF THE DECLINE OF NATIONS.

SECTION I. Of supposed National Eminence, and of the Vicissitudes of Human

Affairs

SECTION II. Of the Temporary Efforts and Relaxations of the National Spirit

SECTION III. Of Relaxations in the National Spirit incident to Polished

Nations

SECTION IV. The same subject continued

SECTION V. Of National Waste

PART VI. OF CORRUPTION AND POLITICAL SLAVERY.

SECTION I. Of corruption in general

SECTION II. Of Luxury

SECTION III. Of the Corruption incident to Polished Nations

SECTION IV. The same subject continued

SECTION V. Of Corruption, as it tends to Political Slavery

SECTION VI. Of the Progress and Termination of Despotism

AN ESSAY

ON THE

HISTORY OF CIVIL SOCIETY.

* * * * *

PART FIRST.

OF THE GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF HUMAN NATURE.

* * * * *

SECTION I.

OF THE QUESTION RELATING TO THE STATE OF NATURE.

Natural productions are generally formed by degrees. Vegetables are raised

from a tender shoot, and animals from an infant state. The latter, being

active, extend together their operations and their powers, and have a

progress in what they perform, as well as in the faculties they acquire.

This progress in the case of man is continued to a greater extent than in

that of any other animal. Not only the individual advances from infancy to

manhood, but the species itself from rudeness to civilization. Hence the

supposed departure of mankind from the state of their nature; hence our

conjectures and different opinions of what man must have been in the first

age of his being. The poet, the historian, and the moralist frequently

allude to this ancient time; and under the emblems of gold, or of iron,

represent a condition, and a manner of life, from which mankind have either

degenerated, or on which they have greatly improved. On either supposition,

the first state of our nature must have borne no resemblance to what men

have exhibited in any subsequent period; historical monuments, even of the

earliest date, are to be considered as novelties; and the most common

establishments of human society are to be classed among the encroachments

which fraud, oppression, or a busy invention, have made upon the reign of

nature, by which the chief of our grievances or blessings were equally

withheld.

Among the writers who have attempted to distinguish, in the human

character, its original qualities, and to point out the limits between

nature and art, some have represented mankind in their first condition, as

possessed of mere animal sensibility, without any exercise of the faculties

that render them superior to the brutes, without any political union,

without any means of explaining their sentiments, and even without

possessing any of the apprehensions and passions which the voice and the

gesture are so well fitted to express. Others have made the state of nature

to consist in perpetual wars kindled by competition for dominion and

interest, where every individual had a separate quarrel with his kind, and

where the presence of a fellow creature was the signal of battle.

The desire of laying the foundation of a favourite system, or a fond

expectation, perhaps, that we may be able to penetrate the secrets of

nature, to the very source of existence, have, on this subject, led to many

fruitless inquiries, and given rise to many wild suppositions. Among the

various qualities which mankind possess, we select one or a few particulars

on which to establish a theory, and in framing our account of what man was

in some imaginary state of nature, we overlook what he has always appeared

within the reach of our own observation, and in the records of history.

In every other instance, however, the natural historian thinks himself

obliged to collect facts, not to offer conjectures. When he treats of any

particular species of animals, he supposes that their present dispositions

and instincts are the same which they originally had, and that their

present manner of life is a continuance of their first destination. He

admits, that his knowledge of the material system of the world consists in

a collection of facts, or at most, in general tenets derived from

particular observations and experiments. It is only in what relates to

himself, and in matters the most important and the most easily known, that

he substitutes hypothesis instead of reality, and confounds the provinces

of imagination and reason, of poetry and science.

But without entering any further on questions either in moral or physical

subjects, relating to the manner or to the origin of our knowledge; without

any disparagement to that subtilty which would analyze every sentiment, and

trace every mode of being to its source; it may be safely affirmed, that

the character of man, as he now exists, that the laws of his animal and

intellectual system, on which his happiness now depends, deserve our

principal study; and that general principles relating to this or any other

subject, are useful only so far as they are founded on just observation,

and lead to the knowledge of important consequences, or so far as they

enable us to act with success when we would apply either the intellectual

or the physical powers of nature, to the purposes of human life.

If both the earliest and the latest accounts collected from every quarter

of the earth, represent mankind as assembled in troops and companies; and

the individual always joined by affection to one party, while he is

possibly opposed to another; employed in the exercise of recollection and

foresight; inclined to communicate his own sentiments, and to be made

acquainted with those of others; these facts must be admitted as the

foundation of all our reasoning relative to man. His mixed disposition to

friendship or enmity, his reason, his use of language and articulate

sounds, like the shape and the erect position of his body, are to be

considered as so many attributes of his nature: they are to be retained in

his description, as the wing and the paw are in that of the eagle and the

lion, and as different degrees of fierceness, vigilance, timidity, or

speed, have a place in the natural history of different animals.

If the question be put, What the mind of man could perform, when left to

itself, and without the aid of any foreign direction? we are to look for

our answer in the history of mankind. Particular experiments which have

been found so useful in establishing the principles of other sciences,

could probably, on this subject, teach us nothing important, or new: we are

to take the history of every active being from his conduct in the situation

to which he is formed, not from his appearance in any forced or uncommon

condition; a wild man therefore, caught in the woods, where he had always

lived apart from his species, is a singular instance, not a specimen of any

general character. As the anatomy of an eye which had never received the

impressions of light, or that of an ear which had never felt the impulse of

sounds, would probably exhibit defects in the very structure of the organs

themselves, arising from their not being applied to their proper functions;

so any particular case of this sort would only show in what degree the

powers of apprehension and sentiment could exist where they had not been

employed, and what would be the defects and imbecilities of a heart in

which the emotions that arise in society had never been felt.

Mankind are to be taken in groupes, as they have always subsisted. The

history of the individual is but a detail of the sentiments and the

thoughts he has entertained in the view of his species: and every

experiment relative to this subject should be made with entire societies,

not with single men. We have every reason, however, to believe, that in the

case of such an experiment made, we shall suppose, with a colony of

children transplanted from the nursery, and left to form a society apart,

untaught, and undisciplined, we should only have the same things repeated,

which, in so many different parts of the earth, have been transacted

already. The members of our little society would feed and sleep, would herd

together and play, would have a language of their own, would quarrel and

divide, would be to one another the most important objects of the scene,

and, in the ardour of their friendships and competitions, would overlook

their personal danger, and suspend the care of their self-preservation. Has

not the human race been planted like the colony in question? Who has

directed their course? whose instruction have they heard? or whose example

have they followed?

Nature, therefore, we shall presume, having given to every animal its mode

of existence, its dispositions and manner of life, has dealt equally with

the human race; and the natural historian who would collect the properties

of this species, may fill up every article now as well as he could have

done in any former age. The attainments of the parent do not descend in the

blood of his children, nor is the progress of man to be considered as a

physical mutation of the species. The individual, in every age, has the

same race to run from infancy to manhood, and every infant, or ignorant

person, now, is a model of what man was in his original state. He enters on

his career with advantages peculiar to his age; but his natural talent is

probably the same. The use and application of this talent is changing, and

men continue their works in progression through many ages together: they

build on foundations laid by their ancestors; and in a succession of years,

tend to a perfection in the application of their faculties, to which the

aid of long experience is required, and to which many generations must have

combined their endeavours. We observe the progress they have made; we

distinctly enumerate many of its steps; we can trace them back to a distant

antiquity, of which no record remains, nor any monument is preserved, to

inform us what were the openings of this wonderful scene. The consequence

is, that instead of attending to the character of our species, where the

particulars are vouched by the surest authority, we endeavour to trace it

through ages and scenes unknown; and, instead of supposing that the

beginning of our story was nearly of a piece with the sequel, we think

ourselves warranted to reject every circumstance of our present condition

and frame, as adventitious, and foreign to our nature. The progress of

mankind, from a supposed state of animal sensibility, to the attainment of

reason, to the use of language, and to the habit of society, has been

accordingly painted with a force of imagination, and its steps have been

marked with a boldness of invention, that would tempt us to admit, among

the materials of history, the suggestions of fancy, and to receive,

perhaps, as the model of our nature in its original state, some of the

animals whose shape has the greatest resemblance to ours. [Footnote:

_Rousseau_ sur l'origine de l'inegalité parmi les hommes.]

It would be ridiculous to affirm, as a discovery, that the species of the

horse was probably never the same with that of the lion; yet, in opposition

to what has dropped from the pens of eminent writers, we are obliged to

observe, that men have always appeared among animals a distinct and a

superior race; that neither the possession of similar organs, nor the

approximation of shape, nor the use of the hand, [Footnote: Traité de

l'esprit.] nor the continued intercourse with this sovereign artist, has

enabled any other species to blend their nature or their inventions with

his; that, in his rudest state, he is found to be above them; and in his

greatest degeneracy, never descends to their level. He is, in short, a man

in every condition; and we can learn nothing of his nature from the analogy

of other animals. If we would know him, we must attend to himself, to the

course of his life, and the tenor of his conduct. With him the society

appears to be as old as the individual, and the use of the tongue as

universal as that of the hand or the foot. If there was a time in which he

had his acquaintance with his own species to make, and his faculties to

acquire, it is a time of which we have no record, and in relation to which

our opinions can serve no purpose, and are supported by no evidence.

We are often tempted into these boundless regions of ignorance or

conjecture, by a fancy which delights in creating rather than in merely

retaining the forms which are presented before it: we are the dupes of a

subtilty, which promises to supply every defect of our knowledge, and, by

filling up a few blanks in the story of nature, pretends to conduct our

apprehension nearer to the source of existence. On the credit of a few

observations, we are apt to presume, that the secret may soon be laid open,

and that what is termed _wisdom_ in nature, may be referred to the

operation of physical powers. We forget that physical powers employed in

succession or together, and combined to a salutary purpose, constitute

those very proofs of design from which we infer the existence of God; and

that this truth being once admitted, we are no longer to search for the

source of existence; we can only collect the laws which the Author of

nature has established; and in our latest as well as our earliest

discoveries, only perceive a mode of creation or providence before unknown.

We speak of art as distinguished from nature; but art itself is natural to

man. He is in some measure the artificer of his own frame, as well as of

his fortune, and is destined, from the first age of his being, to invent

and contrive. He applies the same talents to a variety of purposes, and

acts nearly the same part in very different scenes. He would be always

improving on his subject, and he carries this intention wherever he moves,

through the streets of the populous city, or the wilds of the forest. While

he appears equally fitted to every condition, he is upon this account

unable to settle in any. At once obstinate and fickle, he complains of

innovations, and is never sated with novelty. He is perpetually busied in

reformations, and is continually wedded to his errors. If he dwells in a

cave, he would improve it into a cottage; if he has already built, he would

still build to a greater extent. But he does not propose to make rapid and

hasty transitions; his steps are progressive and slow; and his force, like

the power of a spring, silently presses on every resistance; an effect is

sometimes produced before the cause is perceived; and with all his talent

for projects, his work is often accomplished before the plan is devised. It

appears, perhaps, equally difficult to retard or to quicken his pace; if

the projector complain he is tardy, the moralist thinks him unstable; and

whether his motions be rapid or slow, the scenes of human affairs

perpetually change in his management: his emblem is a passing stream, not a

stagnating pool. We may desire to direct his love of improvement to its

proper object, we may wish for stability of conduct; but we mistake human

nature, if we wish for a termination of labour, or a scene of repose.

The occupations of men, in every condition, bespeak their freedom of

choice, their various opinions, and the multiplicity of wants by which they

are urged: but they enjoy, or endure, with a sensibility, or a phlegm,

which are nearly the same in every situation. They possess the shores of

the Caspian, or the Atlantic, by a different tenure, but with equal ease.

On the one they are fixed to the soil, and seem to be formed for

settlement, and the accommodation of cities: the names they bestow on a

nation, and on its territory, are the same. On the other they are mere

animals of passage, prepared to roam on the face of the earth, and with

their herds, in search of new pasture and favourable seasons, to follow the

sun in his annual course.

Man finds his lodgment alike in the cave, the cottage, and the palace; and

his subsistence equally in the woods, in the dairy, or the farm. He assumes

the distinction of titles, equipage, and dress; he devises regular systems

of government, and a complicated body of laws; or naked in the woods has no

badge of superiority but the strength of his limbs and the sagacity of his

mind; no rule of conduct but choice; no tie with his fellow creatures but

affection, the love of company, and the desire of safety. Capable of a

great variety of arts, yet dependent on none in particular for the

preservation of his being; to whatever length he has carried his artifice,

there he seems to enjoy the conveniences that suit his nature, and to have

found the condition to which he is destined. The tree which an American, on

the banks of the Oroonoko [Footnote: Lafitau, moeurs des sauvages.], has

chosen to climb for the retreat, and the lodgment of his family, is to him

a convenient dwelling. The sopha, the vaulted dome, and the colonade, do

not more effectually content their native inhabitant.

If we are asked therefore, where the state of nature is to be found? we may

answer, it is here; and it matters not whether we are understood to speak

in the island of Great Britain, at the Cape of Good Hope, or the Straits of

Magellan. While this active being is in the train of employing his talents,

and of operating on the subjects around him, all situations are equally

natural. If we are told, that vice, at least, is contrary to nature; we may

answer, it is worse; it is folly and wretchedness. But if nature is only

opposed to art, in what situation of the human race are the footsteps of

art unknown? In the condition of the savage, as well as in that of the

citizen, are many proofs of human invention; and in either is not any

permanent station, but a mere stage through which this travelling being is

destined to pass. If the palace be unnatural, the cottage is so no less;

and the highest refinements of political and moral apprehension, are not

more artificial in their kind, than the first operations of sentiment and

reason.

If we admit that man is susceptible of improvement, and has in himself a

principle of progression, and a desire of perfection, it appears improper

to say, that he has quitted the state of his nature, when he has begun to

proceed; or that he finds a station for which he was not intended, while,

like other animals, he only follows the disposition, and employs the powers

that nature has given.

The latest efforts of human invention are but a continuation of certain

devices which were practised in the earliest ages of the world, and in the

rudest state of mankind. What the savage projects, or observes, in the

forest, are the steps which led nations, more advanced, from the

architecture of the cottage to that of the palace, and conducted the human

mind from the perceptions of sense, to the general conclusions of science.

Acknowledged defects are to man in every condition matter of dislike.

Ignorance and imbecility are objects of contempt: penetration and conduct

give eminence and procure esteem. Whither should his feelings and

apprehensions on these subjects lead him? To a progress, no doubt, in which

the savage, as well as the philosopher, is engaged; in which they have made

different advances, but in which their ends are the same. The admiration

which Cicero entertained for literature, eloquence, and civil

accomplishments, was not more real than that of a Scythian for such a

measure of similar endowments as his own apprehension could reach. "Were I

to boast," says a Tartar prince, [Footnote: Abulgaze Bahadur Chan; History

of the Tartars.] "it would be of that wisdom I have received from God.

For as, on the one hand, I yield to none in the conduct of war, in the

disposition of armies, whether of horse or of foot, and in directing the

movements of great or small bodies; so, on the other, I have my talent in

writing, inferior perhaps only to those who inhabit the great cities of

Persia or India. Of other nations, unknown to me, I do not speak."

Man may mistake the objects of his pursuit; he may misapply his industry,

and misplace his improvements: If, under a sense of such possible errors,

he would find a standard by which to judge of his own proceedings, and

arrive at the best state of his nature, he cannot find it perhaps in the

practice of any individual; or of any nation whatever; not even in the

sense of the majority, or the prevailing opinion of his kind. He must look

for it in the best conceptions of his understanding, in the best movements

of his heart; he must thence discover what is the perfection and the

happiness of which he is capable. He will find, on the scrutiny, that the

proper state of his nature, taken in this sense, is not a condition from

which mankind are for ever removed, but one to which they may now attain;

not prior to the exercise of their faculties, but procured by their just

application.

Of all the terms that we employ in treating of human affairs, those of

_natural_ and _unnatural_ are the least determinate in their

meaning. Opposed to affectation, frowardness, or any other defect of the

temper or character, the natural is an epithet of praise; but employed to

specify a conduct which proceeds from the nature of man, can serve to

distinguish nothing; for all the actions of men are equally the result of

their nature. At most, this language can only refer to the general and

prevailing sense or practice of mankind; and the purpose of every important

enquiry on this subject may be served by the use of a language equally

familiar and more precise. What is just, or unjust? What is happy or

wretched, in the manners of men? What, in their various situations, is

favourable or adverse to their amiable qualities? are questions to which we

may expect a satisfactory answer; and whatever may have been the original

state of our species, it is of more importance to know the condition to

which we ourselves should aspire, than that which our ancestors may be

supposed to have left.