the effects which few months' education sometimes has in unfolding their mental powers. The pleasing change which in the mean time takes place in their once vacant countenances, when animated and lighted up by an active and inquisitive mind, cannot escape the notice of the most careless observer.* SECTION III. THE DESIRE OF ESTEEM. I. An Original Principle of our Nature.] This principle, as well as those we have now been considering, discovers itself at a very early period in infants, who, long before they are able to reflect on the advantages resulting from the good opinion of others, and even before they acquire the use of speech, are sensibly mortified by any expression of neglect or contempt. It seems, therefore, to be an original principle of our nature; that is, it does not appear to be resolvable into reason and experience, or into any other principle more general than itself. An additional proof of this is the very powerful influence * For an additional illustration of the same thing, see a remarkable case of recovery from deafness and dumbness in the history of the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris for the year 1703. Å doctrine similar to that which I have now been controverting, concerning the origin of society, was maintained by some of the ancient sophists, and has found advocates in every age among those writers who wished to depreciate human nature, as well as among many who were anxious to represent man as entirely the creature of education and government, with the view of inculcating implicit and passive obedience to the civil magistrate. In Buchanan's elegant and philosophical Dialogue De Jure Regni apud Scotos, the question is particularly discussed between the two interlocutors, one of whom ascribes the origin of society to views of utility, meaning by utility the private interest or advantage of the individual. On the contrary, Buchanan himself, who is the other speaker, contends with great warmth for the existence of social principles in the nature of man, which, independently of any views of interest, lay a foundation for the social union. Part of this Dialogue is curious, as it shows how completely Buchanan had not only anticipated, but refuted, the very far-fetched argument which Hobbes was soon after to draw from his supposed state of nature in support of his slavish maxims of government. [See the subject of man's natural sociality still further illustrated, in connection with experiments in prison discipline. De Beaumont and De Tocqueville's Penitentiary System of the United States. F. C. Gray's Prison Discipline of America. it has over the mind, an influence more striking than that of any other active principle whatsoever. Even the love of life daily gives way to the desire of esteem, and of an esteem which, as it is only to affect our memories, cannot be supposed to interest our self-love. In what manner the association of ideas should manufacture, out of the other principles of our constitution, a new principle stronger than them all, it is difficult to conceive. In these observations I have had an eye to the theories of those modern philosophers who represent self-love, or the desire of happiness, as the only original principle of action in man, and who attempt to account for the origin of all our other active principles from habit or the association of ideas. That this theory is just in some instances cannot be disputed. Thus, in the case of avarice, it is manifest that it is from habit alone it derives its influence over the mind; for no man surely was ever brought into the world with an innate love of money. Money is at first desired, merely as the means of obtaining other objects; but, in consequence of being long and constantly accustomed to direct our efforts to its attainment on account of its apprehended utility, we come at last to pursue it as an ultimate end, and frequently retain our attachment to it long after we have lost all relish for the enjoyments it enables us to command. In like manner, it has been supposed that the esteem of our fellow-creatures is at first desired on account of its apprehended utility, and that it comes in time to be pursued as an ultimate end, without any reference on our part to the advantages it bestows. In opposition to this doctrine it seems to me to be clear, that as the object of hunger is not happiness, but food; as the object of curiosity is not happiness, but knowledge; so the object of this principle of action is not happiness, but the esteem and respect of other men. That this is not inconsistent with the analogy of our nature appears from the observations already made on our appetites and desires; and that it really is the fact may be proved by various arguments. Before touching, however, on these, I must remark, that I consider this as merely a question of speculative curiosity; for, upon either supposition, the desire of esteem is equally the work of nature; and con sequently, upon either supposition, it is equally unphilosophical to attempt, by metaphysical subtilties, to counteract her wise and beneficent purposes. Among the different arguments which concur to prove that the desire of esteem is not wholly resolvable into the association of ideas, one of the strongest has already been hinted at, — the early period of life at which this principle discovers itself, - long before we are able to form the idea of happiness, far less to judge of the circumstances which have a tendency to promote it. The difference in this respect between avarice and the desire of esteem is remarkable. The former is the vice of old age, and is, comparatively speaking, confined to a few. The latter is one of the most powerful engines in the education of children, and is not less universal in its influence than the principle of curiosity. II. The Desire of Posthumous Fame represented by Wollaston as Illusory.] The desire, too, of posthumous fame, of which no man can entirely divest himself, . furnishes an insurmountable objection to the theories already mentioned. It is, indeed, an objection so obvious to the common sense of mankind, that all the philosophers who have leaned to these theories have employed their ingenuity in attempting to resolve this desire into an illusion of the imagination produced by habit. This, too, was the opinion of an excellent writer, and still more excellent man, Mr. Wollaston, who, from a well-meant, but very mistaken, zeal to weaken the influence of this principle of action on human conduct, has been at pains to give as ludicrous an account as possible of its origin. As 1 differ widely from Wollaston on this point, both in his theoretical speculations and in the practical inferences he deduces from them, I shall quote the passage at length, and then subjoin a few remarks on it. "Men please themselves with notions of immortality, and fancy a perpetuity of fame secured to themselves by books and testimonies of historians; but alas! it is a stupid delusion when they imagine themselves present and enjoying that fame at the reading of their story after their death. And beside, in reality, the man is not known ever the more to posterity, because his name is transmitted to them. He doth not live, because his name does. When 6 it is said, Julius Cæsar subdued Gaul, beat Pompey, and changed the Roman commonwealth into a monarchy,' it is the same thing as to say, The conqueror of Pompey was Cæsar'; that is, Cæsar and the conqueror of Pompey are the same thing, and Cæsar is as much known by the one designation as by the other. The amount, then, is only this, that the conqueror of Pompey conquered Pompey, or somebody conquered Pompey; or rather, since Pompey is now as little known as Cæsar, somebody conquered somebody. Such a poor business is this boasted immortality; and such as has been described is the thing called glory among us! The notion of it may serve to excite them who, having abilities to serve their country in time of real danger or want, or to do some other good, have yet not philosophy enough to do this upon principles of virtue, or to see through the glories of the world (just as we excite children by praising them, and as we see many good inventions and improvements proceed from emulation and vanity); but to discerning men this fame is mere air, and the next remove from nothing, which they despise, if not shun. I think there are two considerations which may justify a desire of some glory or honor, and scarce more. When men have performed any virtuous actions, or such as sit easy on their memories, it is a reasonable pleasure to have the testimony of the world added to that of their own consciences, that they have done well. And more than that, if the reputation acquired by any qualification or action may produce a man any real comfort or advantage (if it be only protection from the insolence and injustice of mankind, or if it enables him, by his authority, to do more good to others), to have this privilege must be a great satisfaction, and what a wise and good man may be allowed, as he has opportunity, to propose to himself. But then he proposes it no further than it may be useful, and it can be no further useful than he wants it. So that, upon the whole, glory, praise, and the like, are either mere vanity, or only valuable in proportion to defects and wants. * Wollaston's Religion of Nature Delineated, Sect V. § xix. A It appears from this passage, that Wollaston does not consider the desire of posthumous fame as an ultimate fact in our nature, for he proposes a theory to account for it. thought substantially the same with that of Wollaston occurs in Cowley's ode entitled Life and Fame. "Great Cæsar's self a higher place does claim Doth fill each mouth and breath. "T is true, the two immortal syllables remain; What essence substance In five poor letters is? what hypostasis In those alone does the great Cæsar live. Notwithstanding the merit of these lines, I should hardly have thought it worth while to quote them, if Dr. Hurd (a critic of no common ingenuity as well as learning) had not shown, by his comment upon them, how completely he had misapprehended the reasoning both of the poet and of the philosopher. He remarks: — 6 "This lively ridicule on posthumous fame is well enough placed in a poem or declamation; but we are a little surprised to find so grave a writer as Wollaston diverting himself with it. In reality,' says he, the man is not known ever the more to posterity because his name is transmitted to them. He does not live, because his name does.' When it is said, Julius Cæsar subdued Gaul,' &c., &c., the sophistry is apparent. Put Cato in the place of Cæsar, and then see whether that great man do not live in his name substantially, that is, to good purpose, if the impression which these two immortal syllables make on the mind be of use in exciting posterity, or any one man, to the love and imitation of Cato's virtue.' Hurd's Cowley, Vol. I. p. 179. In this remark, Hurd plainly proceeds on the supposition, that Wollaston's sophistry is directed against the utility of the love of posthumous glory, whereas the only point in dispute relates to the origin of this principle, which Wollaston seems to have thought, if it could not be resolved into the rational motive of self-love, must be the illegitimate and contemptible offspring of our own stupidity and folly. How very different must Cowley's feelings have been when he wrote the metaphysical ode referred to by Hurd, from those which inspired that first burst of juvenile emotion which forms the exordium to his Poetical Works! "What shall I do to be for ever known, I shall, like beasts or common people, die, What sound is 't strikes mine ear? Sure I fame's trumpet hear. It sounds like the last trumpet, for it can |