A thing beyond us, ev'n before our death.[1512]
Just what you hear, you have, and what's unknown
The same, my lord,[1513] if Tully's, or your own. 240
All that we feel of it begins and ends
In the small circle of our foes or friends;[1514]
To all beside as much an empty shade[1515]
An Eugene living,[1516] as a Cæsar dead;
Alike, or when or where they shone or shine, 245
Or on the Rubicon, or on the Rhine.
A wit's a feather, and a chief a rod;[1517]
An honest man's[1518] the noblest work of God.
Fame but from death a villain's name can save,[1519]
As justice tears his body from the grave; 250
When what t' oblivion better were resigned,
Is hung on high, to poison half mankind.[1520]
All fame is foreign, but of true desert;
Plays round the head, but comes not to the heart:
One self-approving hour whole years outweighs 255
Of stupid starers and of loud huzzas;
And more true joy Marcellus[1521] exiled feels,
Than Cæsar with a senate at his heels.[1522]
[Sidenote: 7. Superior parts.]
In parts superior[1523] what advantage lies?
Tell, for you can, what is it to be wise? 260
'Tis but to know how little can be known;[1524]
To see all others' faults, and feel our own;[1525]
Condemned in bus'ness or in arts to drudge,
Without a second or without a judge:[1526]
Truths would you teach, or save a sinking land? 265
All fear, none aid you, and few understand.[1527]
Painful pre-eminence![1528] yourself to view
Above life's weakness, and its comforts too.[1529]
Bring then these blessings to a strict account;
Make fair deductions; see to what they 'mount: 270
How much of other each is sure to cost;
How each for other oft is wholly lost;
How inconsistent greater goods with these;
How sometimes life is risked, and always ease.
Think, and if still the things thy envy call,[1530] 275
Say would'st thou be the man to whom they fall?
To sigh for ribbons if thou art so silly,
Mark how they grace Lord Umbra, or Sir Billy.[1531]
Is yellow dirt the passion of thy life?
Look but on Gripus, or on Gripus' wife.[1532] 280
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shined,
The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind:[1533]
Or ravished with the whistling of a name,[1534]
See Cromwell, damned to everlasting fame![1535]
If all, united, thy ambition call, 285
From ancient story learn to scorn them all.[1536]
There, in the rich, the honoured, famed, and great,
See the false scale of happiness complete!
In hearts of kings, or arms of queens who lay,
How happy those to ruin,[1537] these betray! 290
Mark by what wretched steps their glory grows,[1538]
From dirt and sea-weed as proud Venice rose;
In each how guilt and greatness equal ran,[1539]
And all that raised the hero sunk the man:[1540]
Now Europe's laurel on their brows behold, 295
But stained with blood, or ill-exchanged for gold:
Then see them broke with toils, or sunk in ease,
Or infamous for plundered provinces.[1541]
O wealth ill-fated! which no act of fame[1542]
E'er taught to shine,[1543] or sanctified from shame![1544] 300
What greater bliss attends their close of life?
Some greedy minion,[1545] or imperious wife,
The trophied arches, storied halls[1546] invade,
And haunt their slumbers in the pompous shade.[1547]
Alas! not dazzled with their noon-tide ray, 305
Compute the morn and ev'ning to the day;
The whole amount of that enormous fame,
A tale, that blends their glory with their shame!
Know then this truth, enough for man to know,
[Sidenote: That virtue only constitutes a happiness whose object is
universal, and whose prospect eternal.]
"Virtue alone is happiness below."[1548] 310
The only point where human bliss stands still,[1549]
And tastes the good without the fall to ill;
Where only merit constant pay receives,
Is blessed in what it takes,[1550] and what it gives;[1551]
The joy unequalled, if its end it gain,[1552] 315
And if it lose, attended with no pain:[1553]
Without satiety, though e'er so blessed,
And but more relished as the more distressed:
The broadest mirth[1554] unfeeling folly wears,
Less pleasing far than virtue's very tears:[1555] 320
Good, from each object, from each place acquired,
For ever exercised, yet never tired;[1556]
Never elated, while one man's oppressed;
Never dejected, while another's blessed;
And where no wants, no wishes can remain, 325
Since but to wish more virtue is to gain.[1557]
[Sidenote: That the perfection of happiness consists in a conformity to
the order of Providence here, and a resignation to it here and
hereafter.]
See the sole bliss heav'n could on all bestow!
Which who but feels can taste, but thinks can know;
Yet poor with fortune, and with learning blind,
The bad must miss; the good,[1558] untaught, will find; 330
Slave to no sect,[1559] who takes no private road,
But looks through nature up to nature's God;[1560]
Pursues that chain which links th' immense design,
Joins heav'n and earth, and mortal and divine;
Sees, that no being any bliss can know, 335
But touches some above and some below;
Learns from this union of the rising whole,
The first, last purpose of the human soul;
And knows where faith, law, morals, all began,
All end, in love of God, and love of man.[1561] 340
For him alone hope leads from goal to goal,
And opens still, and opens on his soul;
Till lengthened on to faith, and unconfined,
It pours the bliss that fills up all the mind.[1562]
He sees why nature plants in man alone 345
Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown:
(Nature, whose dictates to no other kind
Are giv'n in vain,[1563] but what they seek they find;)[1564]
Wise is her present: she connects in this
His greatest virtue with his greatest bliss;[1565] 350
At once his own bright prospect to be blessed,
And strongest motive to assist the rest.
Self-love thus pushed to social, to divine,
Gives thee to make thy neighbour's blessing thine.
Is this too little for the boundless heart? 355
Extend it, let thy enemies have part:
Grasp the whole worlds of reason, life, and sense,
In one close system of benevolence:[1566]
Happier as kinder, in whate'er degree,
And height of bliss but height of charity. 360
God loves from whole to parts: but human soul
Must rise from individual to the whole.
Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake,
As the small pebble stirs the peaceful lake;[1567]
The centre moved, a circle straight succeeds, 365
Another still, and still another spreads;
Friend, parent, neighbour, first it will embrace;
His country next; and next all human race;[1568]
Wide and more wide th' o'erflowings of the mind
Take ev'ry creature in, of ev'ry kind; 370
Earth smiles around, with boundless bounty blessed,
And heav'n beholds its image in his breast.[1569]
Come then, my friend![1570] my genius! come along,
O master of the poet and the song!
And while the muse now stoops, or now ascends, 375
To man's low passions, or their glorious ends,[1571]
Teach me, like thee in various nature wise,
To fall with dignity, with temper rise;[1572]
Formed by thy converse, happily to steer
From grave to gay, from lively to severe;[1573] 380
Correct with spirit, eloquent with ease,
Intent to reason, or polite to please.[1574]
Oh! while along the stream of time thy name
Expanded flies, and gathers all its fame;
Say, shall my little bark attendant sail, 385
Pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?[1575]
When statesmen, heroes, kings, in dust repose,
Whose sons shall blush their fathers were thy foes,[1576]
Shall then this verse to future age pretend[1577]
Thou wert my guide, philosopher, and friend? 390
That, urged by thee, I turned the tuneful art
From sounds to things, from fancy to the heart;[1578]
For wit's false mirror held up nature's light;
Showed erring pride, whatever is, is right;
That reason, passion, answer one great aim; 395
That true self-love and social are the same;
That virtue only makes our bliss below;
And all our knowledge is, ourselves to know.[1579]
THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.
DEO OPT. MAX.
THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.
BY THE AUTHOR OF THE "ESSAY ON MAN."
London: Printed for R. DODSLEY, at Tully's-Head, in Pall-Mall, 1738,
Price Sixpence.
This pamphlet, which came out in folio, and octavo, and probably in
quarto, was the only separate edition of the Universal Prayer.
For closeness and comprehension of thought, and for brevity and energy
of expression, few pieces of poetry in our language can be compared with
this Prayer. I am surprised Johnson should not make any mention of it.
When it was first published many orthodox persons were, I remember,
offended at it, and called it the Deist's Prayer. It were to be wished
the deists would make use of so good a one.--WARTON.
How extraordinary it is that Warton should be ever accused as if he
wished to decry Pope! No one has borne such willing and ample testimony
to his excellence as a poet, when he truly deserves it. In this place
Warton gives the poetry more praise than it appears entitled to, though
this composition is beautiful, and the two last stanzas sublime; but I
fear, if we were to examine the greater part by the Horatian rule, which
Warton recommends, that is, altering the rhyme and measure,[1580] we
should not find the "disjecti membra poetæ."--BOWLES.
Warburton says that "some passages in the Essay on Man having been
unjustly suspected of a tendency towards fate and naturalism, the author
composed this prayer as the sum of all, to show that his system was
founded in free-will, and terminated in piety." The prayer was written
shortly before Warburton stretched out his helping hand to Pope, and
therefore before the poet had renounced the system and assistance of
Bolingbroke, in reliance on a more serviceable defender. He did not yet
venture, as Warburton pretends, to abjure "naturalism," but kept to it
in every line, and even in the title of his poem. A "universal" could
not be a christian prayer. He avowedly set aside the distinguishing
characteristics of the gospel, and professed to exclude all language
which could not be adopted by the votaries of "every age and clime," by
"savage" as well as "saint," by the idolaters of "Jupiter" as well as by
the worshippers of "Jehovah." No wonder that many persons in England
should have called the Universal, the Deist's Prayer, or that when
translated into French it should have gone by the title of _Prière du
Déiste_.[1581] Warton "wished the deists would make use of so good a
one." There was nothing in their creed which could require them to use a
worse.
On the question of "free-will," Pope taught discordant doctrines. In
the Universal Prayer it is said that the "human will is left free," and
in the Essay on Man "moral ill" is ascribed to its "wanderings."[1582]
But in other parts of the Essay we are told that Cæsar's fierce ambition
is inspired by God, and that man is born with a single ruling passion
which, do all he can, engulfs every sentiment of his soul. Neither this,
nor any other discrepancy, is cleared up in the Universal Prayer. The
contradictions are only multiplied. According to the Prayer "nature is
bound fast in fate," and according to the Essay "nature deviates," which
is asserted to account for the "physical ill" that God does "not
send."[1583] The Essay teaches us that the moral law of mankind is
selfishness, and that we are to be virtuous solely because it promotes
our individual happiness. The fourth stanza of the Prayer reverses the
relation in which virtue stands to happiness, and bids us shun evil more
than hell or pain, pursue good more than heaven or felicity. Pope's view
of Providence in the Essay is that God will not interpose to protect his
servants.[1584] The Prayer contains a petition for "bread and peace,"
which is either a delusive form or a confession that the Almighty adapts
events to the pious dispositions of particular men. Reason concurs with
revelation in this conclusion. The necessary inference from the
perfection of God's attributes is that his government takes in every
circumstance, and as mind is superior to matter, physical laws cannot be
framed without a special regard to the fervent prayers of faithful
hearts.
The Universal Prayer failed to fulfil Pope's main design, and increased
the confusion it was meant to remove. His defective material is cast in
an unsuitable form, and, wanting to expound his opinions, he has
introduced comments which are misplaced or offensive in a prayer. No
worshipper of Jehovah would blasphemously address him as "Jehovah or
Jove," and no one, except the persons who preach while they pray, would
introduce such reflections as that "God is paid when man receives," and
that "binding nature fast in fate he had left free the human will." The
faulty conception is not redeemed by the exquisiteness of the poetry.
The composition is tame and prosaic, and never rises above the level of
a second rate hymn.
THE UNIVERSAL PRAYER.
DEO OPT. MAX.
Father of all! in ev'ry age,
In ev'ry clime adored,
By saint, by savage, and by sage,
Jehovah, Jove, or Lord![1585]
Thou Great First Cause, least understood! 5
Who all my sense confined[1586]
To know but this, that thou art good,[1587]
And that myself am blind;
Yet gave me in this dark estate,
To see the good from ill: 10
And binding nature fast in fate,
Left free the human will.[1588]
What conscience dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do,
This teach me more than hell to shun, 15
That, more than heav'n pursue.
What blessings thy free bounty gives
Let me not cast away;
For God is paid when man receives:
T' enjoy is to obey.[1589] 20
Yet not to earth's contracted span
The goodness let me bound,
Or think Thee Lord alone of man,
When thousand worlds are round:
Let not this weak, unknowing hand 25
Presume thy bolts to throw,
And deal damnation round the land[1590]
On each I judge thy foe.[1591]
If I am right, thy grace impart
Still in the right to stay: 30
If I am wrong, oh teach my heart
To find that better way.
Save me alike from foolish pride,
Or impious discontent,
At aught thy wisdom has denied, 35
Or aught thy goodness lent.
Teach me to feel another's woe,
To hide the fault I see;
That mercy I to others show,
That mercy show to me.[1592] 40
Mean though I am, not wholly so,
Since quickened by thy breath:
Oh lead me wheresoe'er I go,
Through this day's life or death.
This day be bread and peace my lot: 45
All else beneath the sun,
Thou know'st if best bestowed or not,
And let thy will be done.
To Thee, whose temple is all space,
Whose altar, earth, sea, skies,[1593] 50
One chorus let all being raise;
All nature's incense rise!
APPENDIX.
THE COMMENTARY AND NOTES OF
WILLIAM WARBURTON, D.D.
ON THE
ESSAY ON MAN.[1594]
COMMENTARY ON EPISTLE I.
The opening of this Poem, in fifteen lines, is taken up in giving an
account of the subject; which, agreeably to the title, is an Essay on
Man, or a philosophical inquiry into his nature and end, his passions
and pursuits. The exordium relates to the whole work, of which the Essay
on Man was only the first book. The sixth, seventh, and eighth lines
allude to the subjects of this Essay, viz. the general order and design
of Providence; the constitution of the human mind; the origin, use, and
end of the passions and affections, both selfish and social; and the
wrong pursuits of happiness in power, pleasure, &c. The tenth, eleventh,
twelfth, &c. have relation to the subjects of the books intended to
follow, viz. the characters and capacities of men, and the limits of
science, which once transgressed, ignorance begins, and errors without
end succeed. The thirteenth and fourteenth, to the knowledge of mankind,
and the various manners of the age.
The poet tells us next, line 16, with what design he wrote, viz.
To vindicate the ways of God to man.
The men he writes against, he frequently informs us, are such as weigh
their opinions against Providence, ver. 114, such as cry, if man's
unhappy, God's unjust, ver. 118, or such as fall into the notion, that
vice and virtue there is none at all, Epistle ii. ver. 212. This
occasions the poet to divide his vindication of the ways of God into two
parts; in the first of which he gives direct answers to those objections
which libertine men, on a view of the disorders arising from the
perversity of the human will, have intended against Providence; and in
the second, he obviates all those objections, by a true delineation of
human nature, or a general, but exact, map of man. The first Epistle is
employed in the management of the first part of this dispute; and the
three following, in the discussion of the second. So that this whole
book constitutes a complete Essay on Man, written for the best purpose,
to vindicate the ways of God.
Ver. 17. _Say first, of God above, or man below, &c._] The poet having
declared his subject; his end of writing; and the quality of his
adversaries, proceeds, from ver. 16 to 23, to instruct us, from whence
he intends to draw his arguments; namely, from the visible things of God
in this system, to demonstrate the invisible things of God, his eternal
power and godhead. And why? Because we can reason only from what we
know; and as we know no more of man than what we see of his station
here, so we know no more of God than what we see of his dispensations in
this station; being able to trace him no further than to the limits of
our own system. This naturally leads the poet to exprobrate the
miserable folly and impiety of pretending to pry into, and call in
question, the profound dispensations of Providence: which reproof
contains, from ver. 22 to 43, a sublime description of the omniscience
of God, and the miserable blindness and presumption of man.
Ver. 43. _Of systems possible, &c._] So far the poet's modest and sober
introduction: in which he truly observes, that no wisdom less than
omniscient
Can tell why heav'n has made us as we are.
Yet though we be unable to discover the particular reasons for this mode
of our existence, we may be assured in general that it is right. For
now, entering upon his argument, he lays down this evident proposition
as the foundation of his thesis, which he reasonably supposes will be
allowed him, That, of all possible systems, infinite wisdom hath formed
the best, ver. 43, 44. From whence he draws two consequences:
1. The first, from ver. 44 to 51, is, that as the best system cannot but
be such a one as hath no unconnected void; such a one in which there is
a perfect coherence and gradual subordination in all its parts; there
must needs be, in some part or other of the scale of reasoning life,
such a creature as man, which reduces the dispute to this absurd
question, Whether God has placed him wrong?
Ver. 51. _Respecting man, &c._] It being shown that man, the subject of
this inquiry, has a necessary place in such a system as this is
confessed to be; and it being evident, that the abuse of free-will, from
whence proceeds all moral evil, is the certain effect of such a
creature's existence; the next question will be, how these evils can be
accounted for, consistently with the idea we have of God's moral
attributes? Therefore,
2. The second consequence he draws from his principle, That of all
possible systems, infinite wisdom has formed the best, is, that whatever
is wrong in our private system, is right as relative to the whole:
Respecting man, whatever wrong we call,
May, must be right, as relative to all.
That it may, he proves, from ver. 52 to 61, by showing in what consists
the difference between the systematic works of God, and those of man;
viz. that, in the latter, a thousand movements scarce gain one purpose;
in the former, one movement gains many purposes. So that
Man, who here seems principal alone,
Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown.
And acting thus, the appearance of wrong in the partial system may be
right in the universal; for
'Tis but a part we see, and not a whole.
That it must, the whole body of this epistle is employed to illustrate
and enforce. Thus partial evil is universal good, and thus Providence is
fairly acquitted.
Ver. 61. _When the proud steed, &c._] From all this the poet draws a
general conclusion, from ver. 60 to 91, that, as what has been said is
sufficient to vindicate the ways of Providence, man should rest
submissive and content, and own everything to be disposed for the best;
that to think of discovering the manner how God conducts this wonderful
scheme to its completion, is as absurd as to imagine that the horse and
ox shall ever be able to comprehend why they undergo such different
treatment in the hand of man: nay, that such knowledge, if communicated,
would be even pernicious, and make us neglect or desert our duty here.
This he illustrates by the case of the lamb, which is happy in not
knowing the fate that attends it from the butcher; and from thence takes
occasion to observe, that God is the equal master of all his creatures,
and provides for the proper happiness of each and every of them.
Ver. 91. _Hope humbly then; &c._] But now an objector is supposed to put
in, and say, "You tell us, indeed, that all things shall terminate in
good; but we see ourselves surrounded with present evil; yet you forbid
us all inquiry into the manner how we are to be extricated from it, and,
in a word, leave us in a very disconsolate condition." Not so, replies
the poet; you may reasonably, if you please, receive much comfort from
the hope of a happy futurity; a hope implanted in the human breast by
God himself for this very purpose, as an earnest of that bliss, which,
always flying from us here, is reserved for the good man hereafter. The
reason why the poet chooses to insist on this proof of a future state,
in preference to others, is in order to give his system (which is
founded in a sublime and improved Platonism) the greater grace of
uniformity. For hope was Plato's peculiar argument for a future state;
and the words here employed, The soul uneasy, &c. his peculiar
expression. The poet in this place, therefore, says in express terms,
that God gave us hope to supply that future bliss, which he at present
keeps hid from us. In his second Epistle, ver. 274, he goes still
further, and says, this hope quits us not even at death, when every
thing mortal drops from us:
Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die.
And in the fourth Epistle he shows how the same hope is a proof of a
future state, from the consideration of God's giving his creatures no
appetite in vain, or what he did not intend should be satisfied:
He sees, why nature plants in man alone
Hope of known bliss, and faith in bliss unknown:
Nature, whose dictates to no other kind
Are giv'n in vain, but what they seek they find.
It is only for the good man, he tells us, that hope leads from goal to
goal, &c. It would then be strange indeed, if it should prove an
illusion.
Ver. 99. _Lo! the poor Indian, &c._] The poet, as we said, having bid
man comfort himself with expectation of future happiness; having shown
him that this hope is an earnest of it, and put in one very necessary
caution,
Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
provoked at those miscreants whom he afterwards, Ep. iii. ver. 263,
describes as building hell on spite, and heaven on pride, he upbraids
them, from ver. 98 to 112, with the example of the poor Indian, to whom
also nature hath given this common hope of mankind: but though his
untutored mind had betrayed him into many childish fancies concerning
the nature of that future state, yet he is so far from excluding any
part of his own species (a vice which could proceed only from the pride
of false science), that he humanely, though simply, admits even his
faithful dog to bear him company.
Ver. 113. _Go, wiser thou! &c._] He proceeds with these accusers of
Providence, from ver. 112 to 122, and shows them, that complaints
against the established order of things begin in the highest absurdity,
from misapplied reason and power; and end in the highest impiety, in an
attempt to degrade the God of heaven, and to assume his place:
Alone made perfect here, immortal there:
That is, be made God, who only is perfect, and hath immortality: to
which sense the lines immediately following confine us:
Snatch from his hand the balance and the rod,
Re-judge his justice, be the God of God.
Ver. 123. _In pride, in reas'ning pride, our error lies; &c._] From
these men, the poet now turns to his friend; and, from ver. 122 to 130,
remarks, that the ground of all this extravagance is pride; which, more
or less, infects the whole reasoning tribe; shows the ill effects of it,
in the case of the fallen angels; and observes, that even wishing to
invert the laws of order, is a lower species of their crime. He then
brings an instance of one of the effects of pride, which is the folly of
thinking everything made solely for the use of man, without the least
regard to any other of the creatures of God.
Ask for what end the heav'nly bodies shine, &c.
The ridicule of imagining the greater portions of the material system to
be solely for the use of man, true philosophy has sufficiently exposed:
and common sense, as the poet observes, instructs us to conclude, that
our fellow-creatures, placed by Providence as the joint inhabitants of
this globe, are designed to be joint sharers with us of its blessings:
Has God, thou fool! worked solely for thy good,
Thy joy, thy pastime, thy attire, thy food?
Who for thy table feeds the wanton fawn,
For him as kindly spreads the flow'ry lawn.
Ver. 141. _But errs not nature from this gracious end,_] The author
comes next to the confirmation of his thesis, That partial moral evil is
universal good; but introduceth it with an allowed instance in the
natural world, to abate our wonder at the phenomenon of moral evil;
which he forms into an argument on a concession of his adversaries. If
we ask you, says he, from ver. 140 to 150, whether nature doth not err
from the gracious purpose of its Creator, when plagues, earthquakes,
and tempests unpeople whole regions at a time; you readily answer, No:
for that God acts by general, and not by particular laws; and that the
course of matter and motion must be necessarily subject to some
irregularities, because nothing is created perfect. I then ask, why you
should expect this perfection in man? If you own that the great end of
God (notwithstanding all this deviation) be general happiness, then it
is nature and not God that deviates; do you expect greater constancy in
man?
Then nature deviates; and can man do less?
That is, if nature, or the inanimate system (on which God hath imposed
his laws, which it obeys, as a machine obeys the hand of the workman),
may in course of time deviate from its first direction, as the best
philosophy shows it may; where is the wonder that man, who was created a
free agent, and hath it in his power every moment to transgress the
eternal rule of right, should sometimes go out of order?
Ver. 151. _As much that end, &c._] Having thus shown how moral evil came
into the world, namely, by man's abuse of his own free-will, our poet
comes to the point, the confirmation of his thesis, by showing how moral
evil promotes good; and employs the same concessions of his adversaries,
concerning natural evil, to illustrate it.
1. He shows it tends to the good of the whole, or universe, from ver.
151 to 164, and this by analogy. You own, says he, that storms and
tempests, clouds, rain, heat, and variety of seasons, are necessary
(notwithstanding the accidental evil they bring with them) to the health
and plenty of this globe; why then should you suppose there is not the
same use, with regard to the universe, in a Borgia or a Catiline? But
you say you can see the one, and not the other. You say right: one
terminates in this system, the other refers to the whole: which whole
can be comprehended by none but the great Author himself. For, says the
poet in another place,
Of this frame, the bearings and the ties,
The strong connexions, nice dependencies,
Gradations just, has thy pervading soul
Look'd through? or can a part contain the whole?
Own therefore, says he, that
From pride, from pride, our very reas'ning springs;
Account for moral, as for nat'ral things:
Why charge we heav'n in those, in these acquit?
In both, to reason right, is to submit.
Ver. 165. _Better for us, &c._] But, secondly, to strengthen the
foregoing analogical argument, and to make the wisdom and goodness of
God still more apparent, he observes, from ver. 165 to 172, that moral
evil is not only productive of good to the whole, but is even productive
of good in our own system. It might, says he, perhaps appear better to
us, that there were nothing in this world but peace and virtue;
That never air or ocean felt the wind;
That never passion discomposed the mind.
But then consider, that as our material system is supported by the
strife of its elementary particles, so is our intellectual system, by
the conflict of our passions, which are the elements of human action. In
a word, as without the benefit of tempestuous winds, both air and ocean
would stagnate, corrupt, and spread universal contagion throughout all
the ranks of animals that inhabit, or are supported by, them; so,
without the benefit of the passions, such virtue as was merely the
effect of the absence of those passions, would be a lifeless calm, a
stoical apathy.
Contracted all, retiring to the breast:
But health of mind is exercise, not rest.
Therefore, instead of regarding the conflicts of the elements, and the
passions of the mind, as disorders, you ought to consider them as part
of the general order of Providence: and that they are so, appears from
their always preserving the same unvaried course, throughout all ages,
from the creation to the present time:
The gen'ral order, since the whole began,
Is kept in nature, and is kept in man.
We see, therefore, it would be doing great injustice to our author to
suspect that he intended by this to give any encouragement to vice. His
system, as all his Ethic Epistles show, is this: That the passions, for
the reasons given above, are necessary to the support of virtue: that,
indeed, the passions in excess produce vice, which is, in its own
nature, the greatest of all evils, and comes into the world from the
abuse of man's free-will; but that God, in his infinite wisdom and
goodness, deviously turns the natural bias of its malignity to the
advancement of human happiness, and makes it productive of general good:
Th' eternal art educes good from all.
This, set against what we have observed of the poet's doctrine of a
future state, will furnish us with an instance of his steering (as he
well expresses it in his preface) "between doctrines seemingly opposite:
if his Essay has any merit, he thinks it is in this." And doubtless it
is uncommon merit to reject the visions and absurdities of every system,
and take in only what is rational and real. The Characteristics and the
Fable of the Bees are two seemingly inconsistent systems; the folly of
the first is in giving a scheme of virtue without religion; and the
knavery of the latter, in giving a scheme of religion without virtue.
These our poet leaves to any that will take them up; but agrees,
however, so far with the first, that "virtue would be worth having,
though itself was its only reward;" and so far with the latter, that
"God makes evil, against its nature, productive of good."
Ver. 173. _What would this man? &c._] Having thus justified Providence
in its permission of partial moral evil, our author employs the
remaining part of his Epistle in vindicating it from the imputation of
certain supposed natural evils. For now he shows, from ver. 172 to 207,
that though the complaint of his adversaries against Providence be on
pretence of real moral evils; yet, at bottom, it all proceeds from their
impatience under imaginary natural ones, the issue of a depraved
appetite for visionary advantages, which if man had, they would be
either useless or pernicious to him, as repugnant to his state, or
unsuitable to his condition. Though God, says he, hath so bountifully
bestowed on man faculties little less than angelic, yet he ungratefully
grasps at higher; and then, extravagant in another extreme, with a
passion as ridiculous as that is impious, envies, as what would be
advantages to himself, even the peculiar accommodations of brutes. But
here his own false principles expose the folly of his falser appetites.
He supposes them all made for his use: now what use could he have of
them, when he had robbed them of all their qualities? Qualities
distributed with the highest wisdom, as they are divided at present; but
which, if bestowed according to the froward humour of these childish
complainers, would be everywhere found to be either wanting or
superfluous. But even though endowed with these brutal qualities, man
would not only be no gainer, but a considerable loser; as the poet shows
in explaining the consequences which would follow from his having his
sensations in that exquisite degree in which this or the other animal is
observed to possess them.
Ver. 207. _Far as creation's ample range extends,_] He tells us next,
from ver. 206 to 233, that the complying with such extravagant desires
would not only be useless and pernicious to man, but would be breaking
into the order, and deforming the beauty of God's creation, in which
this animal is subject to that, and every one to man, who, by his
reason, enjoys the sum of all their powers.
Ver. 233. _See, through this air, &c._] And further, from ver. 232 to
267, that this breaking the order of things, which, as a link or chain,
connects all beings, from the highest to the lowest, would unavoidably
be attended with the destruction of the universe; for that the several
parts of it must at least compose as entire and harmonious a whole as
the parts of a human body, can be doubted of by no one. Yet we see what
confusion it would make upon our frame, if the members were set upon
invading each other's office:
What if the foot, &c.
Who will not acknowledge, therefore, that a connexion in the disposition
of things, so harmonious as here described, is transcendently beautiful?
But the fatalists suppose such an one. What then? Is the First Free
Agent, the great Cause of all things, debarred a contrivance infinitely
exquisite, because some men, to set up their idol, fate, absurdly
represent it as presiding over such a system?
Ver. 267. _All are but parts of one stupendous whole,_] Our author
having thus given a representation of God's work, as one entire whole,
where all the parts have a necessary dependence on, and relation to each
other, and where each particular part works and concurs to the
perfection of the whole, as such a system transcends vulgar ideas, to
reconcile it to common conceptions he shows, from ver. 266 to 281, that
God is equally and intimately present to every sort of substance, to
every particle of matter, and in every instant of being; which eases the
labouring imagination, and makes us expect no less from such a presence,
than such a dispensation.
Ver. 281. _Cease then, nor order imperfection name:_] And now the poet,
as he had promised, having vindicated the ways of God to man, concludes,
from ver. 280 to the end, that, from what had been said, it appears,
that the very things we blame contribute to our happiness, either as
unrelated particulars, or at least as parts of the universal system;
that our state of ignorance was allotted to us out of compassion; that
yet we have as much knowledge as is sufficient to show us, that we are,
and always shall be, as blessed as we can bear; for that nature is
neither a Stratonic chain of blind causes and effects,
(All nature is but art, unknown to thee,)
nor yet the fortuitous result of Epicurean atoms,
(All chance, direction, which thou canst not see):
as those two speeches of atheism supposed it; but the wonderful art and
contrivance, unknown indeed to man, of an all-powerful, all-wise,
all-good, and free Being. And therefore we may be assured, that the
arguments brought above, to prove partial moral evil productive of
universal good, are conclusive; from whence one certain truth results,
in spite of all the pride and cavils of vain reason, That whatever is,
is right.
That the reader may see in one view the exactness of the method, as well
as force of the argument, I shall here draw up a short synopsis of this
Epistle. The poet begins by telling us, his subject is an Essay on Man:
that his end of writing is to vindicate Providence: that he intends to
derive his arguments from the visible things of God seen in his system:
lays down this proposition, that of all possible systems, infinite
wisdom has formed the best: draws from thence two consequences; 1. That
there must needs be somewhere such a creature as man; 2. That the moral
evil, which he is the author of, is productive of the good of the whole.
This is his general thesis; from whence he forms this conclusion, that
man should rest submissive and content, and make the hopes of futurity
his comfort; but not suffer this to be the occasion of pride, which is
the cause of all his impious complaints. He proceeds to confirm his
thesis. Previously endeavours to abate our wonder at the phenomenon of
moral evil; shows, first, its use to the perfection of the universe, by
analogy, from the use of physical evil in this particular system.
Secondly, its use in this system, where it is turned, providentially,
from its natural bias, to promote virtue. Then goes on to vindicate
Providence from the imputation of certain supposed natural evils, as he
had before justified it for the permission of real moral evil, in
showing that, though the atheist's complaint against Providence be on
pretence of real moral evil, yet the true cause is his impatience under
imaginary natural evil; the issue of a depraved appetite for fantastical
advantages, which, if obtained, would be useless or hurtful to man, and
deforming of, and destructive to, the universe, as breaking into that
order by which it is supported. He describes that order, harmony, and
close connexion of the parts; and by showing the intimate presence of
God to his whole creation, gives a reason for an universe so amazingly
beautiful and perfect. From all this he deduces his general conclusion,
That nature being neither a blind chain of causes and effects, nor yet
the fortuitous result of wandering atoms, but the wonderful art and
direction of an all-wise, all-good, and free Being, Whatever is, is
right, with regard to the disposition of God, and its ultimate tendency;
which, once granted, all complaints against Providence are at an end.
COMMENTARY ON EPISTLE II.
Ver. 2. _The proper study, &c._] The poet having shown, in the first
Epistle, that the ways of God are too high for our comprehension,
rightly draws this conclusion, and methodically makes it the subject of
his introduction to the second, which treats of the nature of man. But
here presently the accusers of Providence would be apt to object, and
say, "Admit that we ran into an excess, when we pretended to censure or
penetrate the designs of Providence, a matter, perhaps, too high for us,
yet have not you gone as far into the opposite extreme, while you only
send us to the knowledge of ourselves? You must mock us when you talk of
this as a study; for who can doubt but we are intimately acquainted with
our own nature? The proper conclusion, therefore, from your proof of our
inability to comprehend the ways of God, is, that we should turn
ourselves to the study of the frame of general nature." Thus, I say,
would they be apt to object; for, of all men, those who call themselves
freethinkers are most given up to pride; especially to that kind which
consists in a boasted knowledge of man, the effects of which pride are
so well exposed in the first Epistle. The poet, therefore, to convince
them that this study is less easy than they imagine, replies, from ver.
2 to 19, to the first part of the objection, by describing the dark and
feeble state of the human understanding, with regard to the knowledge of
ourselves. And further to strengthen this argument, he shows, in answer
to the second part of the objection, from ver. 18 to 31, that the
highest advances in natural knowledge may be easily acquired, and yet
we, all the while, continue very ignorant of ourselves. For that neither
the clearest science, which results from the Newtonian philosophy, nor
the most sublime, which is taught by the Platonic, will at all assist us
in this self-study; nay, what is more, that religion itself, when grown
fanatical and enthusiastic, will be equally useless, though pure and
sober religion will best instruct us in man's nature; that knowledge
being necessary to religion, whose subject is man, considered in all his
relations, and consequently, whose object is God.
Ver. 31. _Superior beings, &c._] To give this second argument its full
force, he illustrates it, from ver. 30 to 43, by the noblest example
that ever was in science, the incomparable Newton, who, although he
penetrated so far beyond others into the works of God, yet could go no
further in the knowledge of his own nature than the generality of his
fellows. Of which the poet assigns this very just and adequate
reason,--in all other sciences the understanding is unchecked and
uncontrolled by any opposite principle; but in the science of man, the
passions overturn as fast as reason can build up.
Ver. 43. _Trace science then, &c._] The conclusion, therefore, from the
whole is, from ver. 42 to 53, that as on the one hand, we should persist
in the study of nature, so, on the other, in order to arrive at science,
we should proceed in the simplicity of truth; and then the produce,
though small, will yet be real.
Ver. 53. _Two principles, &c._] The poet having shown the difficulty
which attends the study of man, proceeds to remove it, by laying before
us the elements or true principles of this science, in an account of the
origin, use, and end of the passions; which, in my opinion, contains the
truest, clearest, shortest, and consequently the best system of ethics
that is anywhere to be met with. He begins, from ver. 52 to 59, with
pointing out the two grand principles in human nature, self-love and
reason. Describes their general nature: the first sets man upon acting,
the other regulates his action. However, these principles are natural,
not moral; and, therefore, in themselves, neither good nor evil, but so
only as they are directed. This observation is made with great judgment,
in opposition to the desperate folly of those fanatics, who, as the
ascetic, vainly pretend to eradicate self-love; or, as the mystic, are
more successful in stifling reason; and both, on the absurd fancy of
their being moral, not natural, principles.
Ver. 59. _Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul;_] The poet
proceeds, from ver. 58 to 67, more minutely to mark out the distinct
offices of these two principles, which offices he had before assigned
only in general; and here he shows their necessity; for without
self-love, as the spring, man would be unactive; and without reason as
the balance, active to no purpose.
Ver. 67. _Most strength the moving principle requires:_] Having thus
explained the ends and offices of each principle, he goes on, from ver.
66 to 79, to speak of their qualities; and shows how they are fitted to
discharge those functions, and answer their respective intentions. The
business of self-love being to excite to action, it is quick and
impetuous; and moving instinctively, has, like attraction, its force
prodigiously increased as the object approaches, and proportionably
lessened as it recedes. On the contrary, reason, like the Author of
attraction, is always calm and sedate, and equally preserves itself
whether the object be near or far off. Hence the moving principle is
made more strong, though the restraining be more quick-sighted. The
consequence he draws from this is, that if we would not be carried away
to our destruction, we must always keep reason upon guard.
Ver. 79. _Attention, &c._] But it would be objected, that if this
account be true, human life would be most miserable; and even in the
wisest, a perpetual conflict between reason and the passions. To this,
therefore, the poet replies, from ver. 78 to 81, first, that Providence
has so graciously contrived, that even in the voluntary exercise of
reason, as in the mechanic motion of a limb, habit makes what was at
first done with pain, easy and natural. And secondly, that the
experience gained by the long exercise of reason, goes a great way
towards eluding the force of self-love. Now the attending to reason, as
here recommended, will gain us this habit and experience. Hence it
appears, that our station, in which reason is to be kept constantly upon
guard, is not so uneasy a one as may be at first imagined.
Ver. 81. _Let subtle schoolmen, &c._] From this description of self-love
and reason, it follows, as the poet observes, from ver. 80 to 93, that
both conspire to one end, namely, human happiness, though they be not
equally expert in the choice of the means; the difference being this,
that the first hastily seizes every thing which has the appearance of
good; the other weighs and examines whether it be indeed what it
appears. This shows, as he next observes, the folly of the schoolmen,
who consider them as two opposite principles, the one good and the other
evil. The observation is seasonable and judicious; for this dangerous
school-opinion gives great support to the Manichean or Zoroastrian
error, the confutation of which was one of the author's chief ends in
writing. For if there be two principles in man, a good and evil, it is
natural to think him the joint product of the two Manichean Deities (the
first of which contributed to his reason, the other to his passions),
rather than the creature of one Individual Cause. This was Plutarch's
opinion, and as we may see in him, of some of the more ancient
theistical philosophers. It was of importance, therefore, to reprobate
and subvert a notion that served to the support of so dangerous an
error; and this the poet hath done with more force and clearness than is
often to be found in whole volumes written against that heretical
opinion.
Ver. 93. _Modes of self-love, &c._] Having given this account of the
nature of self-love in general, he comes now to anatomize it, in a
discourse on the passions, which he aptly names the modes of self-love.
The object of all these, he shows, from ver. 92 to 101, is good; and
when under the guidance of reason, real good, either of ourselves or of
another; for some goods, not being capable of division, or
communication, and reason at the same time directing us to provide for
ourselves, we therefore, in pursuit of these objects, sometimes aim at
our own good, sometimes at the good of others. When fairly aiming at
our own, the quality is called prudence; when at another's, virtue.
Hence as he shows, from ver. 100 to 105, appears the folly of the
stoics, who would eradicate the passions, things so necessary both to
the good of the individual and of the kind. Which preposterous method of
promoting virtue he therefore very reasonably reproves.
Ver. 105. _The rising tempest puts in act the soul,_] But as it was from
observation of the evils occasioned by the passions, that the stoics
thus extravagantly projected their extirpation, the poet recurs, from
ver. 104 to 111, to his grand principle, so often before, and to so good
purpose, insisted on, that partial ill is universal good; and shows,
that though the tempest of the passions, like that of the air, may tear
and ravage some few parts of nature in its passage, yet the salutary
agitation produced by it preserves the whole in life and vigour. This is
his first argument against the stoics, which he illustrates by a very
beautiful similitude, on a hint taken from Scripture:
Nor God alone in the still calm we find;
He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind.
Ver. 111. _Passions, like elements, &c._] His second argument against
the stoics, from ver. 110 to 133, is, that passions go to the
composition of a moral character, just as elementary particles go to the
composition of an organized body. Therefore, for man to project the
destruction of what composes his very being is the height of
extravagance. It is true, he tells us, that these passions, which, in
their natural state, like elements, are in perpetual jar, must be
tempered, softened, and united, in order to perfect the work of the
great plastic Artist; who, in this office, employs human reason; whose
business it is to follow the road of nature, and to observe the dictates
of the Deity; follow her and God. The use and importance of this precept
is evident: for in doing the first, she will discover the absurdity of
attempting to eradicate the passions; in doing the second, she will
learn how to make them subservient to the interests of virtue.
Ver. 123. _Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes;_] His third argument
against the stoics, from ver. 122 to 127, is, that the passions are a
continual spur to the pursuit of happiness; which, without these
powerful inciters, we should neglect, and sink into a senseless
indolence. Now happiness is the end of our creation; and this
excitement, the means to that end; therefore, these movers, the
passions, are the instruments of God, which he hath put into the hands
of reason to work withal.
Ver. 127. _All spread their charms, &c._] The poet now proceeds in his
subject; and this last observation leads him naturally to the discussion
of his next principle. He shows then, that though all the passions have
their turn in swaying the determinations of the mind, yet every man hath
one master passion, that at length stifles or absorbs all the rest. The
fact he illustrates at large in his Epistle to Lord Cobham. Here, from
ver. 126 to 149, he giveth us the cause of it. Those pleasures or goods,
which are the objects of the passions, affect the mind by striking on
the senses; but as, through the formation of the organs of our frame,
every man hath some one sense stronger and more acute than others, the
object which strikes the stronger or acuter sense, whatever it be, will
be the object most desired; and consequently, the pursuit of that will
be the ruling passion: That the difference of force in this ruling
passion shall at first, perhaps, be very small, or even imperceptible;
but nature, habit, imagination, wit, nay, even reason itself, shall
assist its growth, till it hath at length drawn and converted every
other into itself. All which is delivered in a strain of poetry so
wonderfully sublime, as suspends, for a while, the ruling passion in
every reader, and engrosses his whole admiration. This naturally leads
the poet to lament the weakness and insufficiency of human reason, from
ver. 148 to 161, and the purpose he had in so doing, was plainly to
intimate the necessity of a more perfect dispensation to mankind.
Ver. 161. _Yes, nature's road, &c._] Now as it appears from the account
here given of the ruling passion and its cause, which results from the
structure of the organs, that it is the road of nature, the poet shows,
from ver. 160 to 167, that this road is to be followed. So that the
office of reason is not to direct us what passion to exercise, but to
assist us in rectifying, and keeping within due bounds, that which
nature hath so strongly impressed; because
A mightier pow'r the strong direction sends,
And sev'ral men impels to several ends.
Ver. 167. _Like varying winds, &c._] The poet, having proved that the
ruling passion (since nature hath given it us) is not to be overthrown,
but rectified; the next inquiry will be, of what use the ruling passion
is; for an use it must have, if reason be to treat it thus mildly. This
use he shows us, from ver. 166 to 197, is twofold, natural and moral.
1. Its natural use is to conduct men steadily to one certain end, who
would otherwise be eternally fluctuating between the equal violence of
various and discordant passions, driving them up and down at random;
and, by that means, to enable them to promote the good of society, by
making each a contributor to the common stock:
Let pow'r or knowledge, gold or glory, please, &c.
2. Its moral use is to ingraft our ruling virtue upon it; and by that
means to enable us to promote our own good, by turning the exorbitancy
of the ruling passion into its neighbouring virtue:
See anger, zeal and fortitude supply, &c.
The wisdom of the Divine Artist is, as the poet finely observes, very
illustrious in this contrivance; for the mind and body having now one
common interest, the efforts of virtue will have their force infinitely
augmented:
'Tis thus the mercury, &c.
Ver. 197. _Reason the bias, &c._] But lest it should be objected that
this account favours the doctrine of necessity, and would insinuate that
men are only acted upon, in the production of good out of evil; the poet
teacheth, from ver. 196 to 203, that man is a free agent, and hath it in
his power to turn the natural passions into virtues or into vices,
properly so called:
Reason the bias turns to good from ill,
And Nero reigns a Titus, if he will.
Secondly, if it should be objected, that though he doth, indeed, tell us
some actions are beneficial and some hurtful, yet he could not call
those virtuous, nor these vicious, because, as he hath described things,
the motive appears to be only the gratification of some passion, give me
leave to answer for him, that this would be mistaking the argument,
which, to ver. 249 of this epistle, considers the passions only with
regard to society, that is, with regard to their effects rather than
their motives: That, however, it is his design to teach that actions are
properly virtuous and vicious; and though it be difficult to distinguish
genuine virtue from spurious, they having both the same appearance, and
both the same public effects, yet that they may be disentangled. If it
be asked, by what means? he replies, from ver. 202 to 205, by
conscience;--the God within the mind;--and this is to the purpose; for
it is a man's own concern, and no one's else, to know whether his virtue
be pure and solid; for what is it to others, whether this virtue (while,
as to them, the effect of it is the same) be real or imaginary?
Ver. 205. _Extremes in nature equal ends produce, &c._] But still it
will be said, Why all this difficulty to distinguish true virtue from
false? The poet shows why, from ver. 204 to 211, that though indeed vice
and virtue so invade each other's bounds, that sometimes we can scarce
tell where one ends and the other begins, yet great purposes are served
thereby, no less than the perfecting the constitution of the whole, as
lights and shades, which run into one another insensibly in a
well-wrought picture, make the harmony and spirit of the composition.
But on this account to say there is neither vice nor virtue, the poet
shows, from ver. 211 to 217, would be just as wise as to say, there is
neither black nor white, because the shade of that, and the light of
this, often run into one another, and are mutually lost:
Ask your own heart, and nothing is so plain;
'Tis to mistake them, costs the time and pain.
This is an error of speculation, which leads men so foolishly to
conclude, that there is neither vice nor virtue.
Ver. 217. _Vice is a monster, &c._] There is another error, an error of
practice, which hath more general and hurtful effects; and is next
considered, from ver. 216 to 221. It is this, that though, at the first
aspect, vice be so horrible as to fright the beholder, yet, when by
habit we are once grown familiar with her, we first suffer, and in time
begin to lose the memory of her nature, which necessarily implies an
equal ignorance in the nature of virtue. Hence men conclude that there
is neither one nor the other.
Ver. 221. _But where th' extreme of vice, &c._] But it is not only that
extreme of vice which stands next to virtue, which betrays us into these
mistakes. We are deceived too, as he shows us, from ver. 220 to 231, by
our observations concerning the other extreme. For, from the extreme of
vice being unsettled, men conclude that vice itself is only nominal, at
least rather comparative than real.
Ver. 231. _Virtuous and vicious ev'ry man must be,_] There is yet a
third cause of this error of no vice, no virtue, composed of the other
two, _i.e._ partly speculative, and partly practical. And this also the
poet considers, from ver. 230 to 239, showing it ariseth from the
imperfection of the best characters, and the inequality of all; whence
it happens that no man is extremely virtuous or vicious, nor extremely
constant in the pursuit of either. Why it so happens, the poet informs
us, who with admirable sagacity assigns the cause in this line:
For, vice or virtue, self directs it still.
An adherence or regard to what is, in the sense of the world, a man's
own interest, making an extreme, in either, almost impossible. Its
effect in keeping a good man from the extreme of virtue needs no
explanation; and, in an ill man, self-interest showing him the necessity
of some kind of reputation, the procuring and preserving that will
necessarily keep him from the extreme of vice.
Ver. 239. _That counterworks each folly and caprice;_] The mention of
this principle, that self directs vice and virtue, and its consequence,
which is, that
Each individual seeks a sev'ral goal,
leads the author to observe,
That heav'n's great view is one, and that the whole.
And this brings him naturally round again to his main subject, namely,
God's producing good out of ill, which he prosecutes from ver. 238 to
249.
Ver. 249. _Heav'n forming each on other to depend,_] I. Hitherto the
poet hath been employed in discoursing of the use of the passions, with
regard to society at large; and in freeing his doctrine from objections.
This is the first general division of the subject of this epistle.
II. He comes now to show, from ver. 248 to 261, the use of these
passions, with regard to the more confined circle of our friends,
relations, and acquaintance; and this is the second general division.
Ver. 261. _Whate'er the passion, &c._] III. The poet having thus shown
the use of the passions in society and in domestic life, comes, in the
last place, from ver. 260 to the end, to show their use to the
individual, even in their illusions; the imaginary happiness they
present, helping to make the real miseries of life less insupportable:
and this is his third general division:
Opinion gilds with varying rays
Those painted clouds that beautify our days, &c.
One prospect lost, another still we gain;
And not a vanity is giv'n in vain.
Which must needs vastly raise our idea of God's goodness; who hath not
only provided more than a counterbalance of real happiness to human
miseries, but hath even, in his infinite compassion, bestowed on those
who were so foolish as not to have made this provision, an imaginary
happiness, that they may not be quite overborne with the load of human
miseries. This is the poet's great and noble thought, as strong and
solid as it is new and ingenious. It teaches, that these illusions are
the faults and follies of men, which they wilfully fall into, and
thereby deprive themselves of much happiness, and expose themselves to
equal misery; but that still, God, according to his universal way of
working, graciously turns these faults and follies so far to the
advantage of his miserable creatures, as to become, for a time, the
solace and support of their distresses:
Though man's a fool, yet God is wise.
COMMENTARY ON EPISTLE III.
We are now come to the third Epistle of the Essay on Man. It having been
shown, in explaining the origin, use, and end of the passions, in the
second Epistle, that man hath social as well as selfish passions, that
doctrine naturally introduceth the third, which treats of man as a
social animal, and connects it with the second, which considered him as
an individual. And as the conclusion from the subject of the first
Epistle made the introduction to the second, so here again, the
conclusion of the second
Ev'n mean self-love becomes, by force divine,
The scale to measure others' wants by thine,
maketh the introduction to the third:
Here then we rest: 'The Universal Cause
Acts to one end, but acts by various laws.'
The reason of variety in those laws, which tend to one and the same end,
the good of the whole generally, is, because the good of the individual
is likewise to be provided for; both which together make up the good of
the whole universally. And this is the cause, as the poet says
elsewhere, that
Each individual seeks a several goal.
But to prevent our resting there, God hath made each need the assistance
of another; and so
On mutual wants built mutual happiness.
It was necessary to explain the two first lines, the better to see the
pertinency and force of what followeth, from ver. 2 to 7, where the poet
warns such to take notice of this truth, whose circumstances placing
them in an imaginary station of independence, and inducing a real habit
of insensibility to mutual wants (from which wants general happiness
results), make them but too apt to overlook the true system of things;
viz. the men in full health and opulence. This caution was necessary
with respect to society; but still more necessary with respect to
religion. Therefore he especially recommends the memory of it as well to
the clergy as laity when they preach or pray; because the preacher who
doth not consider the First Cause under this view, as a Being consulting
the good of the whole, must needs give a very unworthy idea of him; and
the supplicant, who prayeth as one not related to a whole, or
indifferent to the happiness of it, will not only pray in vain, but
offend his Maker by neglecting the interest of his dispensation.
Ver. 7. _Look round our world; &c._] He now introduceth his system of
human sociability, ver. 7, 8, by showing it to be the dictate of the
Creator; and that man, in this, did but follow the example of general
nature, which is united in one close system of benevolence.
Ver. 9. _See plastic nature working to this end_,] This he proveth,
first, from ver. 8 to 13, on the noble theory of attraction, from the
economy of the material world, where there is a general conspiracy in
all the particles of matter to work for one end, the use, beauty, and
harmony of the whole mass.
Ver. 13. _See matter next, &c._] The second argument, from ver. 12 to
27, is taken from the vegetable and animal world, whose parts serve
mutually for the production, support, and sustentation of each other.
But the observation, that God
Connects each being, greatest with the least;
Made beast in aid of man, and man of beast;
All served, all serving,
awaking again the pride of his impious adversaries, who cannot bear that
man should be thought to be serving as well as served, he takes this
occasion again to humble them, from ver. 26 to 49, by the same kind of
argument he had so successfully employed in the first Epistle, and which
the comment on that epistle hath considered at large.
Ver. 49. _Grant that the pow'rful still the weak control;_] However, his
adversaries, loth to give up the question, will reason upon the matter;
and we are now to suppose them objecting against Providence in this
manner. "We grant," they say, "that in the irrational, as in the
inanimate creation, all is served, and all is serving: but with regard
to man, the case is different: he standeth single: for his reason hath
endowed him both with power and address sufficient to make all things
serve him; and his self-love, of which you have so largely provided for
him, will indispose him, in his turn, to serve any: therefore your
theory is imperfect." Not so, replies the poet, from ver. 48 to 79. I
grant that man, indeed, affects to be the wit and tyrant of the whole,
and would fain shake off
that chain of love
Combining all below and all above:
But nature, even by the very gift of reason, checks this tyrant. For
reason, endowing man with the ability of setting together the memory of
the past with his conjectures about the future, and past misfortunes
making him apprehensive of more to come, this disposeth him to pity and
relieve others in a state of suffering. And the passion growing
habitual, naturally extendeth its effects to all that have a sense of
suffering. Now as brutes have neither man's reason, nor his inordinate
self-love, to draw them from the system of beneficence, so they wanted
not, and therefore have not, this human sympathy of another's misery, by
which passion, we see, those qualities, in man, balance one another, and
so retain him in that orderly connexion, in which Providence hath placed
its whole creation. But this is not all: man's interest and amusement,
his vanity and luxury, tie him still closer to the system of
beneficence, by obliging him to provide for the support of other
animals, and though it be, for the most part, only to devour them with
the greater gust, yet this does not abate the proper happiness of the
animals so preserved, to whom Providence hath not imparted the useless
knowledge of their end. From all which it appears, that the theory is
yet uniform and perfect.
Ver. 79. _Whether with reason, &c._] But even to this as a caviller
would still object, we must suppose he does so. "Admit," says he, "that
nature hath endowed all animals, whether human or brutal, with such
faculties as admirably fit them to promote the general good, yet, in its
care for this, hath not nature neglected to provide for the private good
of the individual? We have cause to think she hath; and we suppose, it
was on exclusive consideration, that she kept back from brutes the gift
of reason (so necessary a means of private happiness), because reason,
as we find in the case of man, where there is occasion for all the
complicated contrivance you have described above, to make the effects of
his passions counterwork the immediate powers of his reason, in order to
keep him subservient to the general system; reason, we say, naturally
tendeth to draw beings into a private independent system." This the poet
answers, by showing, from ver. 78 to 109, that the happiness of animal
and that of human life are widely different: the happiness of human life
consisting in the improvement of the mind, can be procured by reason
only; but the happiness of animal life consisting in the gratifications
of sense, is best promoted by instinct. And, with regard to the regular
and constant operation of each, in that, instinct hath plainly the
advantage; for here God directs immediately; there only mediately
through man.
Ver. 109. _God, in the nature of each being, &c._] The author now cometh
to the main subject of his epistle, the proof of man's sociability, from
the two general societies composed by him; the natural, subject to
paternal authority; and the civil, subject to that of a magistrate. This
he hath the address to introduce, from what had preceded, in so easy and
natural a manner, as showeth him to have the art of giving all the grace
to the dryness and severity of method, as well as wit to the strength
and depth of reason. The philosophic nature of his work requiring he
should show by what reason those societies were introduced, this affords
him an opportunity of sliding gracefully and easily from the
preliminaries into the main subject; and so of giving his work that
perfection of method, which we find only in the compositions of great
writers. For having just before, though to a different purpose,
described the power of bestial instinct to attain the happiness of the
individual, he goeth on, in speaking of instinct as it is serviceable
both to that, and to the kind, from ver. 108 to 147, to illustrate the
original of society. He showeth, that though, as he had before observed,
God had founded the proper bliss of each creature in the nature of its
own existence, yet these not being independent individuals, but parts of
a whole, God, to bless that whole, built mutual happiness on mutual
wants. Now, for the supply of mutual wants, creatures must necessarily
come together, which is the first ground of society amongst men. He then
proceeds to that called natural, subject to paternal authority, and
arising from the union of the two sexes; describes the imperfect image
of it in brutes; then explains it at large in all its causes and
effects. And lastly shows, that, as in fact, like mere animal society,
it is founded and preserved by mutual wants, the supplial of which
causeth mutual happiness, so it is likewise in right, as a rational
society, by equity, gratitude, and the observance of the relation of
things in general.
Ver. 147. _Nor think in nature's state they blindly trod;_] But the
atheist and Hobbist, against whom Mr. Pope argueth, deny the principle
of right, or of natural justice, before the invention of civil compact,
which, they say, gave being to it; and accordingly have had the
effrontery publicly to declare, that a state of nature was a state of
war. This quite subverteth the poet's natural society; therefore, after
this account of that state, he proceedeth to support the reality of it,
by overthrowing the opponent principle of no natural justice; which he
doth, from ver. 146 to 169, by showing in a fine description of the
state of innocence, as represented in Scripture, that a state of nature
was so far from being without natural justice, that it was, at first,
the reign of God, where right and truth universally prevailed.
Ver. 169. _See him from nature rising slow to art!_] Strict method (in
which, by this time, the reader finds the poet to be more conversant,
than some were aware of) leads him next to speak of that society, which
succeeded the natural, namely, the civil. He first explains, from ver.
169 to 199, the intermediate means which led mankind from natural to
civil society. These were the invention and improvement of arts. For
while men lived in a mere state of nature, there was no need of any
other government than the paternal; but when arts were found out and
improved, then that more perfect form, under the direction of a
magistrate, became necessary. And for these reasons; first, to bring
those arts, already found, to perfection; and, secondly, to secure the
product of them to their rightful proprietors. The poet, therefore,
comes now, as we say, to the invention of arts; but being always intent
on the great end for which he wrote his Essay, namely, to mortify that
pride which occasions all the impious complaints against Providence, he
speaks of these inventions as only lessons learned of mere animals
guided by instinct, and thus, at the same time, gives a new instance of
the wonderful Providence of God, who hath continued to teach mankind in
a way, not only proper to humble human pride, but to raise our idea of
divine wisdom to the highest pitch. This he does in a prosopopœia the
most sublime that ever entered into the human imagination:
Thus then to man the voice of nature spake:
"Go, from the creatures thy instructions take, &c.,
And for those arts mere instinct could afford,
Be crowned as monarchs, or as Gods adored."
The delicacy of the poet's address in the first part of the last line is
very remarkable. In this paragraph he hath given an account of those
intermediate means which led men from natural to civil society, that is
to say, the invention and improvement of arts. Now here, on his
conclusion of this account, and on his entry upon the description of
civil society itself, he connects the two parts the most gracefully that
can be conceived, by this true historical circumstance, that it was the
invention of those arts which raised to the magistracy, in this new
society formed for the perfecting of them.
Ver. 199. _Great nature spoke;_] After all this necessary preparation,
the poet shows, from ver. 198 to 209, how civil society followed, and
the advantages it produced.
Ver. 209. _Thus states were formed;_] Having thus explained the original
of civil society, he shows us next, from ver. 208 to 215, that to this
society a civil magistrate, properly so called, did belong. And this in
confutation of that idle hypothesis, which pretends that God conferred
the regal title on the fathers of families; from whence men, when they
had instituted society, were to fetch their governors. On the contrary,
our author shows that a king was unknown till common interest, which led
men to institute civil government, led them at the same time to
institute a governor. However, that it is true that the same wisdom or
valour, which gained regal obedience from sons to the sire, procured
kings a paternal authority, and made them considered as fathers of their
people, which probably was the original (and, while mistaken, continues
to be the chief support) of that slavish error, antiquity representing
its earliest monarchs under the idea of a common father, πατηρ ανδρων.
Afterwards, indeed, they became a kind of foster-fathers, ποιμενα λαων,
Homer calls one of them, till at length they began to devour that flock
they had been so long accustomed to shear; and, as Plutarch says of
Cecrops, εκ χρηστου βασιλεως αγριον και δρακοντωδη γενομενον τυραννον.
Ver. 215. _Till then, by nature crowned, &c._] The poet now returns, at
ver. 215 to 241, to what he had left unfinished in his description of
natural society. This, which appears irregular, is, indeed, a fine
instance of his thorough knowledge of method. I will explain it. This
third epistle, we see, considers man with respect to society; the
second, with respect to himself; and the fourth, with respect to
happiness. But in none of these relations does the poet ever lose sight
of him under that in which he stands to God. It will follow, therefore,
that speaking of him with respect to society, the account would be most
imperfect, were he not at the same time considered with respect to his
religion; for between these two there is a close, and, while things
continue in order, a most interesting connexion:
True faith, true policy united ran;
That was but love of God, and this of man.
Now religion suffering no change or depravation when man first entered
into civil society, but continuing the same as in the state of nature,
the author, to avoid repetition, and to bring the account of true and
false religion nearer to one another, in order to contrast them by the
advantage of that situation, deferred giving an account of his religion
till he had spoken of the origin of civil society. Thence it is, that he
here resumes the account of the state of nature, that is, so much of it
as he had left untouched, which was only the religion of it. This
consisting in the knowledge of the one God, the Creator of all things,
he shows how men came by that knowledge: that it was either found out by
reason, which giving to every effect a cause, instructed them to go from
cause to cause, till they came to the first, who, being causeless, would
necessarily be judged self-existent; or else that it was taught by
tradition, which preserved the memory of the creation. He then tells us
what these men, undebauched by false science, understood by God's nature
and attributes: first, of God's nature, that they easily distinguished
between the worker and the work; saw the substance of the Creator to be
distinct and different from that of the creature, and so were in no
danger of falling into the horrid opinion of the Greek philosophers, and
their follower, Spinoza. And simple reason teaching them that the
Creator was but one, they easily saw that all was right, and so were in
as little danger of falling into the Manichean error, which, when
oblique wit had broken the steady light of reason, imagined all was not
right, having before imagined that all was not the work of One.
Secondly, he shows, what they understood of God's attributes; that they
easily acknowledged a Father where they found a Deity, and could not
conceive a sovereign Being to be any other than a sovereign Good.
Ver. 241. _Who first taught souls enslaved, &c._] Order leadeth the poet
to speak, from ver. 240 to 245, of the corruption of civil society into
tyranny, and its causes; and here, with all the dexterity of address, as
well as force of truth, he observes, it arose from the violation of that
great principle, which he so much insists upon throughout his Essay,
that each was made for the use of all. We may be sure, that in this
corruption, where right or natural justice was cast aside, and violence,
the atheist's justice, presided in its stead, religion would follow the
fate of civil society. We know, from ancient history, it did so.
Accordingly Mr. Pope, from ver. 244 to 269, together with corrupt
politics, describes corrupt religion and its causes. He first informs
us, agreeable to his exact knowledge of antiquity, that it was the
politician, and not the priest (as the illiterate tribe of freethinkers
would make us believe), who first corrupted religion. Secondly, that the
superstition he brought in was not invented by him, as an engine to
play upon others (as the dreaming atheist feigns, who would thus account
for the origin of religion), but was a trap he first fell into himself:
Superstition taught the tyrant awe.
Ver. 269. _So drives self-love, &c._] The inference our author draws
from all this, from ver. 268 to 283, is, that self-love driveth through
right and wrong; it causeth the tyrant to violate the rights of mankind;
and it causeth the people to vindicate that violation. For self-love
being common to the whole species, and setting each individual in
pursuit of the same objects, it became necessary for each, if he would
secure his own, to provide for the safety of another's. And thus equity
and benevolence arose from that same self-love which had given birth to
avarice and injustice:
His safety must his liberty restrain;
All join to guard what each desires to gain.
The poet hath not anywhere shown greater address, in the disposition of
this work, than with regard to the inference before us, which not only
giveth a proper and timely support to what had been advanced in the
second Epistle concerning the nature and effects of self-love, but is a
necessary introduction to what follows, concerning the reformation of
religion and society; as we shall see presently.
Ver. 283. _'Twas then, the studious head, &c._] The poet hath now
described the rise, perfection, and decay of civil policy and religion
in the more early times. But the design had been imperfect, had he
dropped his discourse here. There was, in after-ages, a recovery of
these from their several corruptions. Accordingly, he hath chosen that
happy era for the conclusion of his song. But as good and ill
governments and religions succeed one another without ceasing, he now
leaveth facts, and turneth his discourse, from ver. 282 to 295, to speak
of a more lasting reform of mankind, in the invention of those
philosophic principles, by whose observance a policy and a religion may
be for ever kept from sinking into tyranny and superstition:
'Twas then, the studious head, or generous mind,
Follow'r of God, or friend of human kind,
Poet or patriot, rose but to restore
The faith and moral, nature gave before; &c.
The easy and just transition into this subject from the foregoing is
admirable. In the foregoing he had described the effects of self-love;
and now, with great art and high probability, he maketh men's
observations on these effects the occasion of those discoveries which
they have made of the true principles of policy and religion, described
in the present paragraph; and this he evidently hinteth at in that fine
transition:
'Twas then, the studious head, &c.
Ver. 295. _Such is the world's great harmony, &c._] Having thus
described the true principles of civil and ecclesiastical policy, he
proceedeth, from ver. 294 to 303, to illustrate the harmony between the
two policies, by the universal harmony of nature:
Such is the world's great harmony, that springs
From order, union, full consent of things.
Thus, as in the beginning of this epistle he supported the general
principle of mutual love or association, by considerations drawn from
the particular properties of matter, and the mutual dependence between
vegetable and animal life, so, in the conclusion, he hath enforced the
particular principles of civil and religious society, from that general
harmony, which springs, in part, from those properties and dependencies.
Ver. 303. _For forms of government let fools contest; &c._] But now the
poet, having so much commended the invention and inventors of the
philosophic principles of religion and government, lest an evil use
should be made of this, by men's resting in theory and speculation, as
they have been always apt to do in matters where practice makes their
happiness, he cautions his reader, from ver. 302 to 311, against this
error. The seasonableness of this reproof will appear evident enough to
those who know that mad disputes about liberty and prerogative had once
well nigh overturned our constitution; while others about mystery and
church authority had almost destroyed the very spirit of our religion.
Ver. 311. _Man, like the generous vine, &c._] Having thus largely
considered man in his social capacity, the poet, in order to fix a
momentous truth in the mind of his reader, concludes the Epistle in
recapitulating the two principles which concur to the support of this
part of his character, namely, self-love and social, and in showing that
they are only two different motions of the appetite to good, by which
the Author of Nature hath enabled man to find his own happiness in the
happiness of the whole. This he illustrates with a thought as sublime as
that general harmony which he describes:
On their own axis as the planets run,
Yet make at once their circle round the sun;
So two consistent motions act the soul;
And one regards itself, and one the whole.
Thus God and nature linked the general frame,
And bade self-love and social be the same.
For he hath the art of converting poetical ornament into philosophic
reasoning; and of improving a simile into an analogical argument; of
which, more in our next.
COMMENTARY ON EPISTLE IV.
The two foregoing Epistles having considered man with regard to the
means (that is, in all his relations, whether as an individual, or a
member of society), this last comes to consider him with regard to the
end, that is, happiness. It opens with an invocation to happiness, in
the manner of the ancient poets; who, when destitute of a patron god,
applied to the muse; and if she was not at leisure, took up with any
simple virtue next at hand, to inspire and prosper their undertakings.
This was the ancient invocation, which few modern poets have had the art
to imitate with any degree either of spirit or decorum: but our author
has contrived to make his subservient to the method and reasoning of his
philosophic composition. I will endeavour to explain so uncommon a
beauty. It is to be observed, that the pagan deities had each their
several names and places of abode, with some of which they were supposed
to be more delighted than others, and consequently to be then most
propitious when invoked by the favourite name and place. Hence we find
the hymns of Homer, Orpheus, and Callimachus to be chiefly employed in
reckoning up the several titles and habitations by which the patron god
was known and distinguished. Our poet hath made these two circumstances
serve to introduce his subject. His purpose is to write of happiness:
method, therefore, requires that he first define what men mean by
happiness, and this he does in the ornament of a poetic invocation, in
which the several names that happiness goes by are enumerated:
Oh happiness! our being's end and aim!
Good, pleasure, ease, content! whate'er thy name.
After the definition, that which follows next is the proposition, which
is, that human happiness consists not in external advantages, but in
virtue. For the subject of this Epistle is to detect the false notions
of happiness, and to settle and explain the true; and this the poet lays
down in the next sixteen lines. Now the enumeration of the several
situations where happiness is supposed to reside, is a summary of false
happiness placed in externals:
Plant of celestial seed! if dropped below,
Say, in what mortal soil thou deign'st to grow?
Fair op'ning to some court's propitious shrine,
Or deep with diamonds in the flaming mine?
Twined with the wreaths Parnassian laurels yield,
Or reaped in from harvests of the field?
The six remaining lines deliver the true notion of happiness, and show
that it is rightly placed in virtue, which is summed up in these two:
Fixed to no spot is happiness sincere
'Tis no where to be found, or every where.
The poet, having thus defined his terms, and laid down his proposition,
proceeds to the support of his thesis, the various arguments of which
make up the body of the epistle.
Ver. 19. _Ask for the learn'd, &c._] He begins, from ver. 18 to 29, with
detecting the false notions of happiness. These are of two kinds, the
philosophical and popular. The popular he had recapitulated in the
invocation, when happiness was called upon, at her several supposed
places of abode: the philosophical only remained to be delivered:
Ask of the learn'd the way? The learn'd are blind;
This bids to serve, and that to shun mankind:
Some place the bliss in action, some in ease;
Those call it pleasure, and contentment these.
They differed as well in the means, as in the nature of the end. Some
placed happiness in action, some in contemplation; the first called it
pleasure, the second ease. Of those who placed it in action and called
it pleasure, the route they pursued either sunk them into sensual
pleasures, which ended in pain; or led them in search of imaginary
perfections, unsuitable to their nature and station, see Ep. i., which
ended in vanity. Of those who placed it in ease, the contemplative
station they were fixed in made some, for their quiet, find truth in
every thing; others, in nothing:
Who thus define it, say they more or less
Than this, that happiness is happiness?
The confutation of these philosophic errors he shows to be very easy,
one common fallacy running through them all, namely this, that instead
of telling us in what the happiness of human nature consists, which was
what was asked of them, each busies himself in explaining in what he
placed his own.
Ver. 29. _Take natures path, &c._] The poet then proceeds, from ver. 28
to 35, to reform their mistakes; and shows them that, if they will but
take the road of nature, and leave that of mad opinion, they will soon
find happiness to be a good of the species, and, like common sense,
equally distributed to all mankind.
Ver. 35. _Remember, man, &c._] Having exposed the two false species of
happiness, the philosophical and popular, and announced the true; in
order to establish the last, he goes on to a confutation of the two
former.
I. He first, from ver. 34 to 49, confutes the philosophical, which, as
we said, makes happiness a particular, not a general good. And this two
ways; 1. From his grand principle, that God acts by general laws; the
consequence of which is, that happiness, which supports the well-being
of every system, must needs be universal, and not partial, as the
philosophers conceived. 2. From fact, that man instinctively concurs
with this designation of Providence, to make happiness universal, by his
having no delight in any thing uncommunicated or uncommunicable.
Ver. 49. _Order is heaven's first law;_] II. In the second place, from
ver. 48 to 67, he confutes the popular error concerning happiness,
namely, that it consists in externals. This he does, first, by inquiring
into the reasons of the present providential disposition of external
goods,--a topic of confutation chosen with the greatest accuracy and
penetration. For, if it appears they were given in the manner we see
them distributed, for reasons different from the happiness of
individuals, it is absurd to think that they should make part of that
happiness. He shows, therefore, that disparity of external possessions
among men was for the sake of society: 1. To promote the harmony and
happiness of a system; because the want of external goods in some, and
the abundance in others, increase general harmony in the obligor and
obliged. Yet here, says he, mark the impartial wisdom of heaven; this
very inequality of externals, by contributing to general harmony and
order, produceth an equality of happiness amongst individuals. 2. To
prevent perpetual discord amongst men equal in power, which an equal
distribution of external goods would necessarily occasion. From hence he
concludes, that as external goods were not given for the reward of
virtue, but for many different purposes, God could not, if he intended
happiness for all, place it in the enjoyment of externals.
Ver. 67. _Fortune her gifts may variously dispose, &c._] His second
argument, from ver. 66 to 73, against the popular error of happiness
being placed in externals, is, that the possession of them is
inseparably attended with fear; the want of them with hope; which
directly crossing all their pretensions to making happy, evidently shows
that God had placed happiness elsewhere. And hence, in concluding this
argument, he takes occasion, from ver. 72 to 77, to upbraid the
desperate folly and impiety of those who, in spite of God and nature,
will yet attempt to place happiness in externals:
Oh sons of earth! attempt ye still to rise,
By mountains piled on mountains, to the skies?
Heav'n still with laughter the vain toil surveys,
And buries madmen in the heaps they raise.
Ver. 77. _Know, all the good, &c._] The poet having thus confuted the
two errors concerning happiness, the philosophical and popular, and
proved that true happiness was neither solitary and partial, nor yet
placed in externals, goes on, from ver. 76 to 83, to show in what it
doth consist. He had before said in general, and repeated it, that
happiness lay in common to the whole species. He now brings us better
acquainted with it, in a more explicit account of its nature, and tells
us, it is all contained in health, peace, and competence; but that these
are to be gained only by virtue, namely, by temperance, innocence, and
industry.
Ver. 83. _The good or bad, &c._] Hitherto the poet hath only considered
health and peace:
But health consists with temperance alone;
And peace, oh virtue! peace is all thy own.
One head yet remained to be spoken to, namely, competence. In the
pursuit of health and peace there is no danger of running into excess;
but the case is different with regard to competence: here wealth and
affluence would be apt to be mistaken for it, in men's passionate
pursuit after external goods. To obviate this mistake, therefore, the
poet shows, from ver. 82 to 93, that, as exorbitant wealth adds nothing
to the happiness arising from a competence, so, as it is generally
ill-gotten, it is attended with circumstances which weaken another part
of this triple cord, namely, peace.
Reason's whole pleasure, all the joys of sense,
Lie in three words, health, peace, and competence.
But health consists with temperance alone;
And peace, oh virtue! peace is all thy own.
Ver. 93. _Oh blind to truth, &c._] Our author having thus largely
confuted the mistake, that happiness consists in externals, proceeds to
expose the terrible consequences of such an opinion, on the sentiments
and practice of all sorts of men; making the dissolute, impious and
atheistical; the religious, uncharitable and intolerant; and the good,
restless and discontent. For when it is once taken for granted, that
happiness consists in externals, it is immediately seen that ill men are
often more happy than the good, which sets all conditions on objecting
to the ways of Providence, and some even on rashly attempting to rectify
his dispensations, though by the violation of all laws, divine and
human. Now this being the most important part of the subject under
consideration, is deservedly treated most at large. And here it will be
proper to take notice of the art of the poet in making this confutation
serve, at the same time, for a full solution of all objections which
might be made to his main proposition, that happiness consists not in
externals.
1. He begins, first of all, with the atheistical complainers; and
pursues their impiety from ver. 93 to 131.
Oh blind to truth! and God's whole scheme below, &c.
Ver. 97. _But fools, the good alone unhappy call, &c._] He exposes their
folly, even in their own notions of external goods. 1. By examples, from
ver. 98 to 111, where he shows, first, that if good men have been
untimely cut off, this is not to be ascribed to their virtue, but to a
contempt of life, which hurried them into dangers. Secondly, That if
they will still persist in ascribing untimely death to virtue, they must
needs, on the same principle, ascribe long life to it also;
consequently, as the argument, in fact, concludes both ways, in logic it
concludes neither.
Say, was it virtue, more though heav'n ne'er gave,
Lamented Digby! sunk thee to the grave?
Tell me, if virtue made the son expire,
Why, full of days and honour, lives the sire?
Ver. 111. _What makes all physical or moral ill?_] 2. He exposes their
folly, from ver. 110 to 131, by considerations drawn from the system of
nature: and these twofold, natural and moral. You accuse God, says he,
because the good man is subject to natural and moral evil. Let us see
whence these proceed. Natural evil is the necessary consequence of a
material world so constituted. But that this constitution was best, we
have proved in the first Epistle. Moral evil ariseth from the depraved
will of man. Therefore neither one nor the other from God. But you say,
adds the poet, to these impious complainers, that though it be fit man
should suffer the miseries which he brings upon himself, by the
commission of moral evil; yet it seems unfit that his innocent posterity
should bear a share of the burden. To this, says he, I reply,
We just as wisely might of heav'n complain
That righteous Abel was destroyed by Cain,
As that the righteous son is ill at ease,
When his lewd father gave the dire disease.
But you will still say, Why doth not God either prevent or immediately
repair these evils? You may as well ask, why he doth not work continual
miracles, and every moment reverse the established laws of nature:
Shall burning Etna, if a sage requires, &c.
This is the force of the poet's reasoning, and these the men to whom he
addresseth it, namely, the libertine cavillers against Providence.
Ver. 131. _But still this world, &c._] II. But now, so unhappy is the
condition of our corrupt nature, that these are not the only
complainers. Religious men are but too apt, if not to speak out, yet
sometimes secretly to murmur against Providence, and say, its ways are
not equal. Those especially, who are more inordinately devoted to a sect
or party, are scandalised, that the just, (for such they esteem
themselves,) the just, who are to judge the world, have no better a
portion in their own inheritance and dominion. The poet, therefore, now
leaves those more professedly impious, and turns to these less
profligate complainers, from ver. 130 to 149:
But still this world, so fitted for the knave, &c.
As the former wanted external goods to be the reward of virtue for the
moral man, so these want them for the pious, in order to have a kingdom
of the just. To this the poet holds it sufficient to answer: Pray first
agree among yourselves who those just are. As they are not likely to do
this, he bids them to rest satisfied; to remember his fundamental
principle, that whatever is, is right; and to content themselves (as
their religion teaches them to profess a more than ordinary submission
to the will of Providence) with that common answer which he, with so
much reason and piety, gives to every kind of complainer. However,
though there be yet no kingdom of the just, there is still no kingdom of
the unjust; both the virtuous and the vicious (whatsoever becomes of
those whom every sect calls the faithful) have their share in external
goods; and what is more, the virtuous have infinitely the most enjoyment
of their share:
This world, 'tis true,
Was made for Cæsar, but for Titus too:
And which more bless'd? who chained his country? say!
Or he whose virtue sighed to lose a day?
I have been the more solicitous to explain this last argument, and to
show against whom it is directed, because a great deal depends upon it
for the illustration of the sense, and the defence of the poet's
reasoning. For if we suppose him to be still addressing himself to those
impious complainers, confuted in the forty preceding lines, we should
make him guilty of a paralogism, in the argument about the just; and in
the illustration of it by the case of Calvin. For then the libertine
asks, Why the just, that is, the moral man, is not rewarded? The answer
is, that none but God can tell, who the just, that is, the faithful man,
is. Where the term is changed, in order to support the argument; for
about the truly moral man there is no dispute; about the truly faithful
or the orthodox, a great deal. But take the poet right, as arguing here
against religious complainers, and the reasoning is strict and logical.
They ask, why the truly faithful are not rewarded? He answereth, they
may be for aught you know; for none but God can tell who they are.
Ver. 149. _"But sometimes virtue starves, while vice is fed."_] III. The
poet, having dispatched these two species of murmurers, comes now to the
third, and still more pardonable sort, the discontented good men, who
lament only that virtue starves, while vice riots. To these he replies,
from ver. 148 to 157, that, admit this to be the case, yet they have no
reason to complain, either of the good man's lot in particular, or of
the dispensation of Providence in general. Not of the former, because
happiness, the reward of virtue, consisteth not in externals; nor of the
latter, because ill men may gain wealth by commendable industry; good
men want necessaries through indolence or ill conduct.
Ver. 157. _But grant him riches, &c._] But as modest as this complaint
seemeth at first view, the poet next shows, from ver. 156 to 167, that
it is founded on a principle of the highest extravagance, which will
never let the discontented good man rest, till he becomes as vain and
foolish in his imagination as the very worst sort of complainers. For
that when once he begins to think he wants what is his due, he will
never know where to stop, while God hath any thing to give.
Ver. 167. _What nothing earthly gives, &c._] But this is not all; the
poet showeth next, from ver. 166 to 185, that these demands are not only
unreasonable, but in the highest degree absurd likewise. For that those
very goods, if granted, would be the destruction of that virtue for
which they are demanded as a reward. He concludes, therefore, on the
whole, that
What nothing earthly gives, or can destroy,
The soul's calm sunshine, and the heart-felt joy,
Is virtue's prize,
And that to aim at other, which not only is of no use to us here, but,
what is more, will be of none hereafter, is a passion like that of an
infant or a savage, where the one is impatient for what he will soon
despise, and the other makes a provision for what he can never want.
Ver. 185. _To whom can riches give repute, or trust,_] The poet now
enters more at large upon the matter; and still continuing his discourse
to this third sort of complainers (whom he indulgeth, as much more
pardonable than the first or second, in rectifying all their doubts and
mistakes), he proves, both from reason and example, how unable any of
those things are, which the world most admires, to make a good man
happy. For as to the philosophic mistakes concerning happiness, there
being little danger of their making a general impression, he had, after
a short confutation, dismissed them altogether. But external goods are
those syrens, which so bewitch the world with dreams of happiness, that
it is of all things the most difficult to awaken it out of its
delusions; though, as he proves in an exact review of the most
pretending, they dishonour bad men, and add no lustre to the good. That
it is only this third, and least criminal sort of complainers, against
whom the remaining part of the discourse is directed, appeareth from the
poet's so frequently addressing himself, henceforward, to his friend.
I. He beginneth therefore, from ver. 184 to 205, with considering
riches. 1. He examines first, what there is of real use or enjoyment in
them; and showeth, they can give the good man only that very contentment
in himself, and that very esteem and love from others, which he had
before; and scornfully cries out to those of a different opinion:
Oh fool! to think God hates the worthy mind,
The lover and the love of human-kind,
Whose life is healthful, and whose conscience clear,
Because he wants a thousand pounds a year!
2. He next examines the imaginary value of riches, as the fountain of
honour. For the objection of his adversaries standeth thus: As honour is
the genuine claim of virtue, and shame the just retribution of vice; and
as honour, in their opinion, follows riches, and shame, poverty,
therefore the good man should be rich. He tells them in this they are
much mistaken:
Honour and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part; there all the honour lies.
What power then has fortune over the man? None at all; for as her
favours can confer neither worth nor wisdom; so neither can her
displeasure cure him of any of his follies. On his garb, indeed, she
hath some little influence; but his heart still remains the same:
Fortune in men has some small difference made;
One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade.
So that this difference extends no further than to the habit; the pride
of heart is the same both in the flaunter and the flutterer, as it is
the poet's intention to insinuate by the use of those terms.
Ver. 205. _Stuck o'er with titles, &c._] II. Then, as to nobility, by
creation or birth; this too the poet shows, from ver. 204 to 217, is in
itself as devoid of all real worth as the rest; because, in the first
case, the honour is generally gained by no merit at all; in the second,
by the merit of the first founder of the family, which, when well
considered, is generally the subject rather of humiliation than of
glory.
Ver. 217. _Look next on greatness; &c._] III. The poet now unmasks, from
ver. 216 to 237, the false pretences of greatness, whereby it is seen
that the hero and the politician (the two characters which would
monopolize that quality) do, after all their bustle, if they want
virtue, effect only this, that the one proves himself a fool, and the
other a knave: and virtue they but too generally want; the art of
heroism being understood to consist in ravage and desolation; and the
art of politics, in circumvention. It is not success, therefore, that
constitutes true greatness; but the end aimed at, and the means which
are employed. And if these be right, glory will follow as the reward,
whatever happens to be the issue:
Who noble ends by noble means obtains,
Or failing, smiles in exile or in chains,
Like good Aurelius let him reign, or bleed
Like Socrates, that man is great indeed.
Ver. 237. _What's fame?_] IV. With regard to fame, that still more
fantastic blessing, he showeth, from ver. 236 to 259, that all of it,
besides what we hear ourselves, is merely nothing; and that, even of
this small portion, no more of it giveth the possessor a real
satisfaction, than what is the fruit of virtue. Thus he shows, that
honour, nobility, greatness, glory, so far as they have any thing real
and substantial, that is, so far as they contribute to the happiness of
the possessor, are the sole issue of virtue; and that neither riches,
courts, armies, nor the populace, are capable of conferring them.
Ver. 259. _In parts superior what advantage lies?_] V. But lastly, the
poet shows, from ver. 258 to 269, that as no external goods can make man
happy, so neither is it in the power of all internal. For that even
superior parts bring no more real happiness to the possessor than the
rest; nay, that they put him into a worse condition; for that the
quickness of apprehension and depth of penetration do but sharpen the
miseries of life.
Ver. 269. _Bring then these blessings to a strict account; &c._] Having
thus proved how empty and unsatisfactory all these greatest external
goods are, from an examination of their nature; he proceeds to
strengthen his argument, from ver. 268 to 309, by these three further
considerations:
1. That the acquirement of these goods is made with the loss of one
another, or of greater, either as inconsistent with them, or as spent in
attaining them.
2. That the possessors of each of these goods are generally such, as are
so far from raising envy in a good man, that he would refuse to take
their persons, though, accompanied with their possessions: and this the
poet illustrates by examples.
3. That even the possession of them altogether, where they have excluded
virtue, only terminates in more enormous misery.
Ver. 309. _Know then this truth, &c._] Having thus at length shown that
happiness consists neither in external goods of any kind, nor in all
kinds of internal (that is, in such of them as are not of our own
acquirement), nor yet in the visionary pursuits of the philosophers, he
concludes, from ver. 308 to 311, that it is to be found in virtue alone.
Ver. 311. _The only point when human bliss stands still, &c._] Hitherto
the poet had proved, negatively, that happiness consists in virtue, by
showing, that it did not consist in anything else. He now, from ver. 310
to 327, proves the same positively, by an enumeration of the qualities
of virtue, all naturally adapted to give and to increase human
happiness; as its constancy, capacity, vigour, efficacy, activity,
moderation, and self-sufficiency.
Ver. 327. _See the sole bliss heav'n could on all bestow!_] Having thus
proved that happiness is placed in virtue; he proves next, from ver. 326
to 329, that it is rightly placed there; for that then, and then only,
all may partake of it, and all be capable of relishing it.
Ver. 329. _Yet poor with fortune, &c._] The poet then, with some
indignation, observeth, from ver. 328 to 341, that as obvious and as
evident as this truth was, yet riches and false philosophy had so
blinded the discernment even of improved minds, that the possessors of
the first placed happiness in externals, unsuitable to man's nature; and
the followers of the latter, in refined visions, unsuitable to his
situation: while the simple-minded man, with nature only for his guide,
found plainly in what it should be placed.
Ver. 341. _For him alone, hope leads from goal to goal,_] But this is
not all; the author shows further, from ver. 340 to 353, that when the
simple-minded man, on his first setting out in the pursuit of truth in
order to happiness, hath had the wisdom
To look through nature up to nature's God,
(instead of adhering to any sect or party, where there was so great odds
of his choosing wrong), that then the benefit of gaining the knowledge
of God's will written in the mind, is not confined there; for standing
on this sure foundation, he is now no longer in danger of choosing
wrong, amidst such diversities of religions; but by pursuing this grand
scheme of universal benevolence, in practice as well as theory, he
arrives at length to the knowledge of the revealed will of God, which is
the consummation of the system of benevolence:
For him alone, hope leads from goal to goal,
And opens still, and opens on his soul;
Till lengthened on to faith, and unconfined,
It pours thy bliss that fills up all the mind.
Ver. 353. _Self-love, thus pushed to social, &c._] The poet, in the last
place, marks out, from ver. 352 to 373, the progress of his good man's
benevolence, pushed through natural religion to revealed, till it
arrives to that height which the sacred writers describe as the very
summit of Christian perfection; and shows how the progress of human
differs from the progress of divine benevolence. That the divine
descends from whole to parts; but that the human must rise from
individual to universal. His argument for this extended benevolence is,
that, as God has made a whole, whose parts have a perfect relation to,
and an entire dependency on each other, man, by extending his
benevolence throughout that whole, acts in conformity to the will of his
Creator; and therefore this enlargement of his affection becomes a duty.
But the poet hath not only shown his piety in this observation, but the
utmost art and address likewise in the disposition of it. The Essay on
Man opens with exposing the murmurs and impious conclusions of foolish
men against the present constitution of things. As it proceeds, it
occasionally detects all those false principles and opinions, which led
them to conclude thus perversely. Having now done all that was necessary
in speculation, the author turns to practice, and ends his Essay with
the recommendation of an acknowledged virtue, charity,--which, if
exercised in that extent which conformity to the will of God requireth,
would effectually prevent all complaints against the present order of
nature,--such complaints being made with a total disregard to everything
but their own private system, and seeking remedy in the disorder, and at
the expense of all the rest. This observation,
Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake,
is important. Rochefoucault, Esprit, and their coarse and wordy
disciple, Mandeville, had observed, that self-love was the origin of
all those virtues which mankind most admire, and therefore foolishly
supposed it was the end likewise, and so taught that the highest
pretences to disinterestedness were only the more artful disguises of
self-love. But our author, who says somewhere or other,
Of human nature, wit its worst may write;
We all revere it in our own despite,
saw, as well as they, and everybody else, that the passions began in
self-love; yet he understood human nature better than to imagine that
they ended there. He knew that reason and religion could convert
selfishness into its very opposite; and therefore teacheth that
Self-love but serves the virtuous mind to wake:
and thus hath vindicated the dignity of human nature, and the
philosophic truth of the christian doctrine.
Ver. 394. _Showed erring pride, whatever is, is right;_] The poet's
address to his friend, which concludeth this Epistle so nobly, and
endeth with a recapitulation of the general argument, affords me the
following observation, with which I shall conclude these remarks. There
is one great beauty that shines through the whole Essay. The poet,
whether he speaks of man as an individual, a member of society, or the
subject of happiness, never misseth an opportunity, while he is
explaining his state under any of these capacities, to illustrate it in
the most artful manner by the enforcement of his grand principle, that
every thing tendeth to the good of the whole, from whence his system
gaineth the reciprocal advantage of having that grand theorem realized
by facts, and his facts justified on a principle of right or nature.
Thus I have endeavoured to analyse and explain the exact reasoning of
these four Epistles. Enough, I presume, to convince every one, that it
hath a precision, force, and closeness of connection rarely to be met
with, even in the most formal treatises of philosophy. Yet in doing
this, it is but too evident I have destroyed that grace and energy which
animates the original. And now let the reader believe, if he be so
disposed, what M. de Crousaz, in his critique upon this work, insinuates
to be his own opinion, as well as that of his friends: "Some persons,"
says he, "have conjectured that Mr. Pope did not compose this Essay at
once, and in a regular order; but that after he had written several
fragments of poetry, all finished in their kind, (one, for example, on
the parallel between reason and instinct, another upon man's groundless
pride, another on the prerogatives of human nature, another on religion
and superstition, another on the original of society, and several
fragments besides on self-love and the passions), he tacked these
together as he could, and divided them into four epistles; as, it is
said, was the fortune of Homer's Rhapsodies." I suppose this
extravagance will be believed just as soon of one as of the other. But
M. Du Resnel, our poet's translator, is not behind-hand with the critic,
in his judgment on the work. "The only reason," says he, "for which this
poem can be properly termed an Essay, is, that the author has not formed
his plan with all the regularity of method which it might have
admitted." And again: "I was, by the unanimous opinion of all those whom
I have consulted on this occasion, and, amongst these, of several
Englishmen completely skilled in both languages, obliged to follow a
different method. The French are not satisfied with sentiments, however
beautiful, unless they be methodically disposed. Method being the
characteristic that distinguishes our performances from those of our
neighbours," &c. After having given many examples of the critical skill
of this wonderful man of method, in the foregoing notes, it is enough
just to have quoted this flourish of self-applause, and so to leave him
to the laughter of the world.
NOTES.
NOTES ON EPISTLE I.
Ver. 7, 8. _A wild,--Or garden,_] The wild relates to the human
passions, productive, as he explains in the second epistle, both of good
and evil. The garden to human reason, so often tempting us to transgress
the bounds God has set to it, and wander in fruitless enquiries.
Ver. 12. _Of all who blindly creep, &c._] _i.e._ Those who only follow
the blind guidance of their passions; or those who leave behind them
common sense and sober reason, in their high flights through the regions
of metaphysics. Both which follies are exposed in the fourth Epistle,
where the popular and philosophical errors concerning happiness are
detected. The figure is taken from animal life.
Ver. 15. _Laugh where we must, &c._] Intimating, that human follies are
so strangely absurd, that it is not in the power of the most
compassionate, on some occasions, to restrain their mirth; and that its
crimes are so flagitious, that the most candid have seldom an
opportunity, on this subject, to exercise their virtue.
Ver. 16. _Vindicate the ways of God to man._] Milton's phrase,
judiciously altered, who says, justify the ways of God to man. Milton
was addressing himself to believers, and delivering reasons or
explaining the ways of God; this idea, the word justify precisely
conveys. Pope was addressing himself to unbelievers, and exposing such
of their objections whose ridicule and absurdity arises from the
judicial blindness of the objectors; he, therefore, more fitly employs
the word vindicate, which conveys the idea of a confutation attended
with punishment. Thus suscipere vindictam legis, to undertake the
defence of the law, implies punishing the violators of it.
Ver. 19, 20. _Of man, what see we but his station here,
From which to reason, or to which refer?_]
The sense is, "we see nothing of man but as he stands at present in his
station here; from which station, all our reasonings on his nature and
end must be drawn; and to this station they must all be referred." The
consequence is, that our reasonings on his nature and end must needs be
very imperfect.
Ver. 21. _Through worlds unnumbered, &c._] Hunc cognoscimus solummodo
per proprietates suas et attributa, et per sapientissimas et optimas
rerum structuras et causas finales. _Newtoni Princ. Schol. gen. sub.
fin._
Ver. 30. _The strong connexions, nice dependencies,_] The thought is
very noble, and expressed with great beauty and philosophic exactness.
The system of the universe is a combination of natural and moral
fitnesses, as the human system is of body and spirit. By the strong
connexions, therefore, the poet alluded to the natural part; and by the
nice dependencies, to the moral. For the Essay on Man is not a system
of naturalism, on the philosophy of Bolingbroke, but a system of natural
religion, on the philosophy of Newton. Hence it is, that where he
supposes disorders may tend to some greater good in the natural world,
he supposes they may tend likewise to some greater good in the moral, as
appears from these sublime images in the following lines:
If plagues and earthquakes break not heav'n's design,
Why then a Borgia or a Catiline?
Who knows, but he whose hand the lightning forms,
Who heaves old ocean, and who wings the storms,
Pours fierce ambition in a Cæsar's mind,
Or turns young Ammon loose to scourge mankind?
Ver. 35 to 42.] In these lines the poet has joined the beauty of
argumentation to the sublimity of thought; where the similar instances,
proposed for his adversaries' examination, show as well the absurdity of
their complaints against order, as the fruitlessness of their inquiries
into the arcana of the Godhead.
Ver. 41. _Or ask of yonder, &c._] On these lines M. Voltaire thus
descants: "Pope dit que l'homme ne peut savoir pourquoi les lunes de
Jupiter sont moins grandes que Jupiter. Il se trompe en cela; c'est une
erreur pardonnable. Il n'y a point de mathématicien qui n'eût fait
voir," &c. And so goes on to show, like a great mathematician as he is,
that it would be very inconvenient for the page to be as big as his lord
and master. It is pity all this fine reasoning should proceed on a
ridiculous blunder. The poet thus reproves the impious complainer of the
order of Providence: You are dissatisfied with the weakness of your
condition. But, in your situation, the nature of things requires just
such a creature as you are: in a different situation, it might have
required that you should be still weaker. And though you see not the
reason of this in your own case, yet, that reasons there are, you may
see in the case of other of God's creatures:
Ask of thy mother earth, why oaks are made
Taller or stronger than the weeds they shade;
Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
Why Jove's satellites are less than Jove.
Here, says the poet, the ridicule of the weeds' and the satellites'
complaint, had they the faculties of speech and reasoning, would be
obvious to all; because their very situation and office might have
convinced them of their folly. Your folly, says the poet to his
complainers, is as great, though not so evident, because the reason is
more out of sight; but that a reason there is, may be demonstrated from
the attributes of the Deity. This is the poet's clear and strong
reasoning; from whence, we see, he was so far from saying, that man
could not know the cause why Jove's satellites were less than Jove, that
all the force of his reasoning turns upon this, that man did see and
know it, and should from thence conclude, that there was a cause of this
inferiority as well in the rational as in the material creation.
Ver. 64. _Egypt's God:_] Called so, because the god Apis was worshipped
universally over the whole land of Egypt.
Ver. 87. _Who sees with equal eye, &c._] Matt. x. 29.
Ver. 93. _What future bliss, &c._] It hath been objected, that "the
system of the best weakens the other natural arguments for a future
state; because, if the evils which good men suffer, promote the benefit
of the whole, then every thing is here in order, and nothing amiss that
wants to be set right, nor has the good man any reason to expect amends,
when the evils he suffered had such a tendency." To this it may be
replied, 1. That the poet tells us, Ep. iv. ver. 361, that God loves
from whole to parts. Therefore, if, in the beginning and progress of the
moral system, the good of the whole be principally consulted, yet, on
the completion of it, the good of particulars will be equally provided
for. 2. The system of the best is so far from weakening those natural
arguments, that it strengthens and supports them. For if those evils, to
which good men are subject, be mere disorders, without any tendency to
the greater good of the whole, then, though we must, indeed, conclude
that they will hereafter be set right, yet this view of things,
representing God as suffering disorders for no other end than to set
them right, gives us too low an idea of the divine wisdom. But if those
evils (according to the system of the best) contribute to the greater
perfection of the whole, such a reason may be then given for their
permission, as supports our idea of divine wisdom to the highest
religious purposes. Then, as to the good man's hopes of retribution,
these still remain in their original force: for our idea of God's
justice, and how far that justice is engaged to a retribution, is
exactly and invariably the same on either hypothesis. For though the
system of the best supposes that the evils themselves will be fully
compensated by the good they produce to the whole, yet this is so far
from supposing that particulars shall suffer for a general good, that it
is essential to this system, that, at the completion of things, when the
whole is arrived to the state of utmost perfection, particular and
universal good shall coincide;
Such is the world's great harmony, that springs
From order, union, full consent of things:
Where small and great, where weak and mighty, made
To serve, not suffer, strengthen, not invade, &c.--Ep. iii. ver. 295.
Which coincidence can never be, without a retribution to each good man
for the evils he has suffered here below.
Ver. 97. _from home,_] The construction is,--The soul, uneasy and
confined, being from home, expatiates, etc. By which words, it was the
poet's purpose to teach, that the present life is only a state of
probation for another, more suitable to the essence of the soul, and to
the free exercise of its qualities.
Ver. 110. _He asks no angel's wing, no seraph's fire;_] The French
translator, M. l'Abbé du Resnel, has turned the line thus:
Il ne désire point cette céleste flamme
Qui des purs Seraphins dévore, et nourrit l'ame.
_i.e._ The savage does not desire that heavenly flame, which at the same
time that it devours the souls of pure seraphim, nourishes them. On
which M. de Crousaz (who, by the assistance of a translation abounding
in these absurdities, writ a Commentary on the Essay on Man, in which we
find nothing but greater absurdities) remarks, "Mr. Pope, in exalting
the fire of his poetry by an antithesis, throws occasionally his
ridicule on those heavenly spirits. The Indian, says the poet, contents
himself without any thing of that flame, which devours at the same time
that it nourisheth." _Comm._ p. 77. But the poet is clear of this
imputation. Nothing can be more grave or sober than his English, on this
occasion; nor, I dare say, to do the translator justice, did he aim to
be ridiculous. It is the sober, solid theology of the Sorbonne. Indeed,
had such a writer as Mr. Pope used this school-jargon, we might have
suspected he was not so serious as he should be. The reader, as he goes
along, will see more of this translator's peculiarities. And the
conclusion of the commentary on the fourth Epistle will show why I have
been so careful to preserve them.
Ver. 131. _Ask for what end, &c._] If there be any fault in these lines,
it is not in the general sentiment, but in the ill choice of instances
made use of in illustrating it. It is the highest absurdity to think
that earth is man's footstool, his canopy the skies, and the heavenly
bodies lighted up principally for his use; yet surely, it is very
excusable to suppose fruits and minerals given for this end.
Ver. 150. _Then Nature deviates; &c._] "While comets move in very
eccentric orbs, in all manner of positions, blind fate could never make
all the planets move one and the same way in orbs concentric; some
inconsiderable irregularities excepted, which may have risen from the
mutual actions of comets and planets upon one another, and which will be
apt to increase, till this system wants a reformation." _Sir Isaac
Newton's Optics, Quæst. ult._
Ver. 155. _If plagues, &c._] What hath misled M. de Crousaz in his
censure of this passage, is his supposing the comparison to be between
the effects of two things in this sublunary world; when not only the
elegancy, but the justness of it, consists in its being between the
effects of a thing in the universe at large, and the familiar, known
effects of one in this sublunary world. For the position enforced in
these lines is this, that partial evil tends to the good of the whole:
Respecting man, whatever wrong we call,
May, must be right, as relative to all.--Ver. 51.
How does the poet enforce it? If you will believe this critic, in
illustrating the effects of partial moral evil in a particular system,
by that of partial natural evil in the same system, and so he leaves his
position in the lurch. But the poet reasons at another rate. The way to
prove his point, he knew, was to illustrate the effect of partial moral
evil in the universe, by partial natural evil in a particular system.
Whether partial moral evil tend to the good of the universe, being a
question which, by reason of our ignorance of many parts of that
universe, we cannot decide but from known effects, the rules of good
reasoning require that it be proved by analogy, _i.e._ setting it by,
and comparing it with, a thing clear and certain; and it is a thing
clear and certain, that partial natural evil tends to the good of our
particular system.
Ver. 157. _Who knows but He, &c._] The sublimity with which the great
Author of Nature is here characterized, is but the second beauty of this
fine passage. The greatest is the making the very dispensation objected
to, the periphrasis of his title.
Ver. 174. _And little less than angels, &c._] "Thou hast made him a
little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and
honour." Psalm viii. 5.
Ver. 202. _And stunned him, &c._] This instance is poetical, and even
sublime, but misplaced. He is arguing philosophically in a case that
required him to employ the real objects of sense only: and, what is
worse, he speaks of this as a real object, If nature thundered, &c. The
case is different where, in ver. 253, he speaks of the motion of the
heavenly bodies, under the sublime conception of ruling angels: for
whether there be ruling angels or no, there is real motion, which was
all his argument wanted; but if there be no music of the spheres, there
was no real sound, which his argument was obliged to find.