éreatures. For them, it is happy, that they can fill up a listless existence. But, the most striking exertions of ability and sentiment ought uniformly to have a reference to mankind. They are, in truth, alone to be excited by the presence and intercourse of men. Placed at a distance from

the objects of useful knowledge, and untouched by the motives that animate an active and vigorous intellect, what technical, impertinent, and gawky figures should we not present ourselves! To speak, to act, or to think justly of nature, it is necessary to have felt, and to prosecute, the sentiments of nature.

For to what purpose, let me ask, is all the toil and bustle of this world? What is the end of avarice and ambition, of the pursuit of wealth, of power, and pre-eminence? Is it to supply the necessities of nature? The wages of the meanest labourer tell you, no; for they can supply them. Is the appetite keener, or the sleep sounder in a palace than in a cottage? The contrary has been so often observed, and, indeed, is so very obvious though it had never been observed, that no one is ignorant of it. Whence then arises that emulation which runs through all the different ranks of men, and what are the advantages which we propose by that great purpose of hu

man life, which we call improving our condition? To be observed, to be attended to, to be taken notice of, with complacency and approbation, are all the advantages which we can propose to derive from it. It is the vanity, then, not the ease, or the pleasure, which interests us?

The rich man, I perceive, glories in his riches, because he feels they naturally attract towards him the attention of the world; and that mankind are disposed to go along with him, in all those agreeable emotions, with which the advantages of his situation so readly inspire him. At the thought of this, how his heart seems to swell and dilate, while he grows fonder of his wealth, upon this account, than for all the other advantages it procures him! The poor man, on the contrary, appears to be ashamed of his poverty. He feels, that it either places him out of the sight of mankind, or if they take any notice of him, that they have scarcely any fellow-feeling with the misery and distress which he suffers. He goes out and comes in unheeded; and when in the midst of a croud, is in the same obscurity, as if shut up in his hovel. Those humble cares, and painful attentions, which occupy men in his situation, afford no amusement to the dissipated and gay. They turn away their eyes from him; or

if

if the extremity of his distress forces them to look at him, it is generally to spurn so disagreeable an object. The fortunate and the proud thus wonder at the insolence of human wretchednes, that it should dare to present itself before them, and with the loathsome aspect of its misery, presume to disturb the serenity of their happiness.*

The man of rank and distinction is observed by all the world; every one is eager to look at him, and to conceive, at least by sympathy, the joy and exultation with which his circumstances must naturally inspire him. His actions are the objects of public notice. Scarcely a word, scarcely a gesture falls from him, that is altogether neglected. In a great assembly, he is the person upon whom ail direct their eyes. It is upon him their passions seem to wait with expectation, in order to receive that movement and direction, which he shall impress upon them; and if his behaviour be not altogether absurd, he has an oportunity, every moment, of interesting mankind, and of rendering himself the object of the observation and sympathy of every one about him. Is it not this, then, which,

not

3

* Adam Smith.

notwithstanding the restraint it imposes, notwithstanding the loss of liberty with which it is attended, renders greatness the object of envy; and compensates, in the opinion of mankind, all that toil, all that anxiety, all those mortifications, which must be undergone in the pursuit of it; and what is of yet more consequence, all that leisure, all that ease, all that careless security, which are forfeited for ever by the acquisition. *

It is peculiar to modern Europe, it is remarked, to rest much of the human character on what may be learned in retirement, and from the information of books. We endeavour, we are told, through the grammar of dead languages, and the channel of commentators, to arrive at the beauties of thoughts and actions, which formerly sprang from the animated spirit of society, and were taken from the living impressions of active life. Like mathematicians, who study the elements of Euclid, but never, think of mensuration; we read of societies, but do not propose to act with men. We repeat the language of politics, but feel not the spirit of nations. We attend to the formalities of a military discipline, but know not how

*Theory of Moral Sentiments.

to

to employ numbers of men to obtain any one purpose by stratagem or force.*

This is more happily expressed, however, than I can believe it to be well founded. At the same time, I heartily agree with the elegant moralist,' that the human mind could not in many instances, perhaps, suffer more from a contempt of letters, than it does from the false importance, which is given to literature, as a business for life, rather than as a help to our conduct, and the means of forming a character, that may be happy in itself, and useful to mankind. It seems, if I may venture the comparison, to be founded on nearly the same principle with that prejudice, which employs so many of our early years under the rod, to acquire, what it is not expected we should retain after we have crossed the threshold of the school.

Practical truths are incontestible. And, if it were possible, that sound speculative and practical principles could be contradictory, the preference should by all means be given to the latter. Men of letters, indeed, too often conceive, that their talents and their knowledge should exempt them from the observance of certain relative

*Ferguson's Civil Society.