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 consequently, upon either supposition, it is equally unphilosophical to attempt, by metaphysical subtleties, 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.

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 I differ widely from Wollaston on this point, both in his

theoretical speculations, and in the practical inferences be 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 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 conquerer 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." *

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." It is," says he "a stupid delusion, when men imagine themselves present and enjoying that fame at the reading of their story after death." Mr. Smith, too, in his Theory of Moral Sentiments, seems to think that the desire of a posthumous fame is to be resolved into an illusion of the imagination. "Men," says he, "have often voluntarily thrown away life to acquire after death a renown which they could no longer enjoy. Their imagination, in the meantime, anticipated that fame which was thereafter to be bestowed upon them; those applauses which they were never to hear rang in their ears; the thoughts of that admiration whose effects they were never to feel, played about their hearts, banished from their breasts the strongest of all natural fears, and transported them to perform actions which seem almost beyond the reach of human nature." But why have recourse to an illusion of the imagination to account for a principle which the wisest of men find it impossible to extinguish in themselves, or even sensibly to weaken; and none more remarkably than some of those who have employed their ingenuity in attempting to turn it into ridicule? Is it possible that men should imagine themselves present and enjoying their fame at the reading of their story after death, without being conscious of this operation of the imagination themselves? Is not this to depart from the plain and obvious appearance

Wollaston's Religion of Nature delineated, pp. 215, 216, 217, 8th Edit. See Note (A.) at the end of this volume.

of the fact, and to adopt refinements similar to those by which the selfish philosophers explain away all our disinterested affections? We might as well suppose that a man's regard for the welfare of his posterity and friends after his death does not arise from natural affection, but from an illusion of the imagination, leading him to suppose himself still present with them, and a witness of their prosperity.* If we have confessedly various other propensities directed to specific objects as ultimate ends, where is the difficulty of conceiving that a desire, directed to the good opinion of our fellow creatures, (without any reference to the advantages it is to yield us either now or hereafter) may be among the number?

It would not indeed (as I have already hinted) materially affect the argument, although we should suppose with Wollaston, that the desire of posthumous fame was resolvable into an illusion of the imagination. For, whatever be its origin, it was plainly the intention of nature that all men should be in some measure under its influence; and it is perhaps of little consequence whether we regard it as a principle originally implanted by nature, or suppose that she has laid a foundation for it in other principles which belong universally to the species.

How very powerfully it operates, appears, not only from the heroical sacrifices to which it has led in every age of the world, but from the conduct of the meanest and most worthless of mankind, who, when they are brought to the scaffold in consequence of the clearest and most decisive evidence of their guilt, frequently persevere to the last, with the terrors of futurity full in

The two cases seem to be so exactly parallel, that it is somewhat surprising that no attempt should have been made to extend to the latter principle of action the same ridicule which has been so lavishly bestowed on the former. So far, however, from this being the case, I believe it will be universally granted, that where the latter principle fails in producing its natural and ordinary effect on the conduct, there must exist some defect in the rational or moral character, for which no other good qualities can sufficiently atone. "He that careth not for his own house is worse than an infidel." But if this be acknowledged with respect to the interest we take in the concerns of our connexions after our own disappearance from the present scene, why judge so harshly of the desire of posthumous fame? Do not the two principles often co-operate in stimulating our active exertions to the very same ends? more especially in those cases, (alas! too common) where the inheritance of a respectable name is all that a good man has it in his power to bequeath to his family.

their view, in the most solemn protestations of their innocence; and that merely in the hope of leaving behind them not a fair, but an equivocal or problematical reputation.

With respect to the other parts of Wollaston's reasoning, that it is only the letters which compose our names that we can transmit to posterity, it is worthy of observation, that, if the argument be good for any thing, it applies equally against the desire of esteem from our contemporaries, excepting in those cases in which we ourselves are personally known by those whose praise we covet, and of whose applause we happen ourselves to be ear witnesses: And yet, undoubtedly, according to the common judgment of mankind, the love of praise is more peculiarly the mark of a liberal and elevated spirit in cases where the gratification it seeks has nothing to recommend it to those whose ruling passions are interest or the love of flattery.* It is precisely for the same reason that the love of posthumous fame is strongest in the noblest and most exalted characters. If selflove were really the sole motive in all our actions, Wollaston's reasoning would prove clearly the absurdity of any concern about our memory. "Such a concern," as Dr. Hutcheson observes, "no selfish being, who had the modelling of his own nature, would choose to implant in himself. But, since we have not this power, we must be contented to be thus outwitted by nature into a public interest against our will." +

As to the fact on which Wollaston's argument proceeds, is it not more philosophical to consider it as affording an additional stimulus to the instinctive love of posthumous fame, by holding it up to the imagination

That the desire of esteem, if a, fantastic principle of action in the one of these cases, is equally so in the other, is remarked by Pope; but, instead of availing himself of this consideration to justify the desire of posthumous renown, he employs it as an argument to expose the nothingness of fame in all cases whatsoever.

"What's fame? a fancied life in other's breath,

A thing beyond us even before our death.

All that we feel of it begins and ends
In the small circle of our foes and friends;
To all beside as much an empty shade,
An Eugene living, as a Cæsar dead."

Essay on Man, Epistle iv. 1. 237.

Essay on the Nature and Conduct of the Passions and Affections.