printing, and shall be satisfied, if I have not missed of brightness, in pursuit of brevity. It has cost me more time and pains to abridge these pages than to write them. Perhaps that is nearly the perfection of good writing, which is original, but whose truth alone prevents the reader from suspecting that it is so: and which effects that for knowledge which the lens effects for the sunbeam, when it condenses its brightness, in order to increase its force. How far the following efforts will stand the test of this criterion, it is not for me to determine; to know is one thing, to do is another; and it may be observed of good writing, as of good blood, that it is much easier to say what it is composed of, than to compose it.

Most of the maxims and positions advanced in the present volume, are founded on two simple truisms, that men are the same; and that the passions are the powerful and disturbing forces, the greater or the less prevalence of which, gives individuality to character. But we must not only express clearly, but think deeply, nor can we concede to Buffon that style alone is that quality that will immortalize an author. The essays of Montaigne, and the analogy of Butler, would live forever, in spite of their style. Style is indeed the valet of genius, and an able one too; but as the true gentleman will appear, even in rags, so true genius will shine even through the coarsest style.

But above all I do most earnestly hope, that none will accuse me of usurping on this occasion, the chair of the Moralist, or presuming to deliver any thing here advanced, as oracular, magisterial, dictatorial, or 'ex cathedra.' I have no opinions that I would not most willingly exchange for truth; I may be sometimes wrong, I may be sometimes right; at all events discussion may be provoked, and as this cannot be done without thought, even that is a good. I despise dogmatism in others, too much to indulge it myself: I have not been led to these opinions by the authority of great names: for I have always considered rather what is said than who says it; and the consequence of the

I KNOW not that I should have attempted a second volume of LACON, if the first had not met with some encouragement. Its reception has proved that my book has been purchased at least by the many; and I have testimonies far more gratifying, that it has not been disapproved of by the few. He that aspires to produce a work that shall instruct and amuse the unlearned, without displeasing or disgusting the scholar, proposes to himself an object more attainable perhaps on any other theme, than on that which I have adopted; for on this subject all men are critics, although very few are connoisseurs; the man of the world is indignant at being supposed to stand in need of information, and the philosopher feels that he is above it; the old will not quit the school of their own experience, and hope is the only moralist that has any weight with the young. There are many things on which even a coxcomb will receive instruction with gratitude, as for instance, a knowledge of the languages, or of the mathematics, because his pride is not wounded by an admission of his ignorance as to those sciences to which he has never been introduced. But if you propose to teach him any thing new concerning himself, the world, and those who live in it, the case is widely altered. He finds that he has been conversant all his life with these things, suspects that here he knows at least as much as his master, becomes quite impatient of information, and often finishes by attempting to instruct his instructer.

*The second volume is added, making the entire work, and the only complete edition ever published in this country.

It is true that he has made very laudable use of his eyes, since his opera-glass has given him an insight into others, and his looking-glass has helped him to some knowledge of himself. His ears indeed have · had a very easy time of it, but their inactivity has been dearly purchased, at the expense of his tongue, he feels however, from his experience, that he has had opportunities at least of observing, and he fancies from his vanity, that he has improved them. Can one (says he) be ignorant of those things that are so constantly and so closely around us, and about us: he that runs, he thinks, may read that lucid volume whose pages are days, whose characters are men. But too close a contiguity is as inimical to distinct vision, as too great a distance; and hence it happens that a man often knows the least of that which is most near to him-even his own heart; but if we are ignorant of ourselves, a knowledge of others is built upon the sand. On this subject, however, nothing is more easy than to talk plausibly, and few things more difficult than to write profoundly; thoroughly to succeed, requires far more experience than I possess, or ever shall. I am, however, fully satisfied of the utility of a work similar to that in which I am engaged, and hope what little encouragement I have met with may stimulate those to attempt something better, who are deeply conversant, not only with the living, but with the dead-not only with books, but with men-not only with the hearts of others, but with their own. The moral world will by no means repay our researches with such rich discoveries as the natural; yet where we cannot invent, we may at least improve; we may give somewhat of novelty to that which was old, condensation to that which was diffuse, perspicuity to that which was obscure, and currency to that which was recondite. A Hume may soar indeed somewhat higher than a Davy, but he will meet with more disappointments; with wings that could reach the clouds, but not with strength of pinion that could pierce them. Hume was at times as incompre

INTRODUCTION.

IV

hensible to himself, as invisible to others; lost in regions where he could not penetrate, nor we pursue; for it is as rare for experiment to give us nothing but conjecture, as for speculation to give us nothing but truth. In this walk of science, however, if we know but little, upon that little we are becoming gradually more agreed; perhaps we have discovered that the prize is not worth the contention. Hence there is a kind of alphabet of first principles, now established in the moral world, which is not very likely to be overturned by any new discoveries. But principles, however correct, may sometimes be wrongly, and however true, may sometimes be falsely applied; and none are so likely to be so, as those that from having been found capable of effecting so much, are expected to form all. An Indian has very few tools, and it is astonishing how much he accomplishes with them; but he sometimes fails; for although his instruments are of general, they are not of universal application. There are two principles, however, of established acceptance in morals; first, that self-interest is the mainspring of all our actions, and secondly, that utility is the test of their value. Now there are some cases where these maxims are not tenable, because they are not true; for some of the noblest energies of gratitude, of affection, of courage, and of benevolence, are not resolvable into the first. If it be said, indeed, that these estimable qualities may after all be traced to self-interest, because all the duties that flow from them are a source of the highest gratification to those that perform them, this I presume savours rather too much of an identical proposition, and is only a roundabout mode of informing us that virtuous men will act virtuously. Take care of number one, says the worldling, and the Christian says so too; for he has taken the best care of number one, who takes care that number one shall go to heaven; that blessed place is full of those same selfish beings who, by having constantly done good to others, have as constantly gratified themselves. I humbly conceive,

therefore, that it is much nearer the truth, to say that all men have an interest in being good, than that all men are good from interest. As to the standard of utility, this is a mode of examining human actions, that looks too much to the event, for there are occasions where a man may effect the greatest general good, by the smallest individual sacrifice; and there are others where he may make the greatest individual sacrifice, and yet produce but little general good. If indeed the moral philosopher is determined to do all his work with the smallest possible quantity of tools, and would wish to cope with the natural philosopher, who has explained such wonders, from the two sim ple causes of impulse and of gravity, in this case he must look out for maxims as universal as those occa. sions to which he would apply them. Perhaps he might begin by affirming with me that-men are the same, and this will naturally lead him to another conclusion, that if men are the same, they can have but one common principle of action. The attainment of apparent good; those two simple truisms contain the whole of my philosophy, and as they have not been worn out in the performance of one undertaking, I trust they will not fail me in the execution of another.