The Works of the Right Honourable Edmund Burke, Vol. I. (of 12) by Edmund Burke

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The delay of the law is, your lordship will tell me, a trite topic, and
which of its abuses have not been too severely felt not to be complained
of? A man's property is to serve for the purposes of his support; and
therefore, to delay a determination concerning that, is the worst
injustice, because it cuts off the very end and purpose for which I
applied to the judicature for relief. Quite contrary in the case of a
man's life; there the determination can hardly be too much protracted.
Mistakes in this case are as often fallen into as many other; and if the
judgment is sudden, the mistakes are the most irretrievable of all
others. Of this the gentlemen of the robe are themselves sensible, and
they have brought it into a maxim. _De morte hominis nulla est cunctatio
longa._ But what could have induced them to reverse the rules, and to
contradict that reason which dictated them, I am utterly unable to
guess. A point concerning property, which ought, for the reasons I have
just mentioned, to be most speedily decided, frequently exercises the
wit of successions of lawyers, for many generations. _Multa virum
volvens durando saecula vincit._ But the question concerning a man's
life, that great question in which no delay ought to be counted tedious,
is commonly determined in twenty-four hours at the utmost. It is not to
be wondered at, that injustice and absurdity should be inseparable
companions.

Ask of politicians the end for which laws were originally designed; and
they will answer, that the laws were designed as a protection for the
poor and weak, against the oppression of the rich and powerful. But
surely no pretence can be so ridiculous; a man might as well tell me he
has taken off my load, because he has changed the burden. If the poor
man is not able to support his suit, according to the vexatious and
expensive manner established in civilized countries, has not the rich as
great an advantage over him as the strong has over the weak in a state
of nature? But we will not place the state of nature, which is the reign
of God, in competition with political society, which is the absurd
usurpation of man. In a state of nature, it is true that a man of
superior force may beat or rob me; but then it is true, that I am at
full liberty to defend myself, or make reprisal by surprise or by
cunning, or by any other way in which I may be superior to him. But in
political society, a rich man may rob me in another way. I cannot defend
myself; for money is the only weapon with which we are allowed to fight.
And if I attempt to avenge myself the whole force of that society is
ready to complete my ruin.

A good parson once said, that where mystery begins, religion ends.
Cannot I say, as truly at least, of human laws, that where mystery
begins, justice ends? It is hard to say, whether the doctors of law or
divinity have made the greater advances in the lucrative business of
mystery. The lawyers, as well as the theologians, have erected another
reason besides natural reason; and the result has been, another justice
besides natural justice. They have so bewildered the world and
themselves in unmeaning forms and ceremonies, and so perplexed the
plainest matters with metaphysical jargon, that it carries the highest
danger to a man out of that profession, to make the least step without
their advice and assistance. Thus, by confining to themselves the
knowledge of the foundation of all men's lives and properties, they have
reduced all mankind into the most abject and servile dependence. We are
tenants at the will of these gentlemen for everything; and a
metaphysical quibble is to decide whether the greatest villain breathing
shall meet his deserts, or escape with impunity, or whether the best man
in the society shall not be reduced to the lowest and most despicable
condition it affords. In a word, my lord, the injustice, delay,
puerility, false refinement, and affected mystery of the law are such,
that many who live under it come to admire and envy the expedition,
simplicity, and equality of arbitrary judgments. I need insist the less
on this article to your lordship, as you have frequently lamented the
miseries derived to us from artificial law, and your candor is the more
to be admired and applauded in this, as your lordship's noble house has
derived its wealth and its honors from that profession.

Before we finish our examination of artificial society, I shall lead
your lordship into a closer consideration of the relations which it
gives birth to, and the benefits, if such they are, which result from
these relations. The most obvious division of society is into rich and
poor; and it is no less obvious, that the number of the former bear a
great disproportion to those of the latter. The whole business of the
poor is to administer to the idleness, folly, and luxury of the rich;
and that of the rich, in return, is to find the best methods of
confirming the slavery and increasing the burdens of the poor. In a
state of nature, it is an invariable law, that a man's acquisitions are
in proportion to his labors. In a state of artificial society, it is a
law as constant and as invariable, that those who labor most enjoy the
fewest things; and that those who labor not at all have the greatest
number of enjoyments. A constitution of things this, strange and
ridiculous beyond expression! We scarce believe a thing when we are told
it, which we actually see before our eyes every day without being in the
least surprised. I suppose that there are in Great Britain upwards of a
hundred thousand people employed in lead, tin, iron, copper, and coal
mines; these unhappy wretches scarce ever see the light of the sun; they
are buried in the bowels of the earth; there they work at a severe and
dismal task, without the least prospect of being delivered from it; they
subsist upon the coarsest and worst sort of fare; they have their health
miserably impaired, and their lives cut short, by being perpetually
confined in the close vapor of these malignant minerals. A hundred
thousand more at least are tortured without remission by the suffocating
smoke, intense fires, and constant drudgery necessary in refining and
managing the products of those mines. If any man informed us that two
hundred thousand innocent persons were condemned to so intolerable
slavery, how should we pity the unhappy sufferers, and how great would
be our just indignation against those who inflicted so cruel and
ignominious a punishment! This is an instance--I could not wish a
stronger--of the numberless things which we pass by in their common
dress, yet which shock us when they are nakedly represented. But this
number, considerable as it is, and the slavery, with all its baseness
and horror, which we have at home, is nothing to what the rest of the
world affords of the same nature. Millions daily bathed in the
poisonous damps and destructive effluvia of lead, silver, copper, and
arsenic. To say nothing of those other employments, those stations of
wretchedness and contempt, in which civil society has placed the
numerous _enfans perdus_ of her army. Would any rational man submit to
one of the most tolerable of these drudgeries, for all the artificial
enjoyments which policy has made to result from them? By no means. And
yet need I suggest to your lordship, that those who find the means, and
those who arrive at the end, are not at all the same persons? On
considering the strange and unaccountable fancies and contrivances of
artificial reason, I have somewhere called this earth the Bedlam of our
system. Looking now upon the effects of some of those fancies, may we
not with equal reason call it likewise the Newgate and the Bridewell of
the universe? Indeed the blindness of one part of mankind co-operating
with the frenzy and villany of the other, has been the real builder of
this respectable fabric of political society: and as the blindness of
mankind has caused their slavery, in return their state of slavery is
made a pretence for continuing them in a state of blindness; for the
politician will tell you gravely, that their life of servitude
disqualifies the greater part of the race of man for a search of truth,
and supplies them with no other than mean and insufficient ideas. This
is but too true; and this is one of the reasons for which I blame such
institutions.

In a misery of this sort, admitting some few lenitives, and those too
but a few, nine parts in ten of the whole race of mankind drudge through
life. It may be urged perhaps, in palliation of this, that at least the
rich few find a considerable and real benefit from the wretchedness of
the many. But is this so in fact? Let us examine the point with a little
more attention. For this purpose the rich in all societies may he thrown
into two classes. The first is of those who are powerful as well as
rich, and conduct the operations of the vast political machine. The
other is of those who employ their riches wholly in the acquisition of
pleasure. As to the first sort, their continual care and anxiety, their
toilsome days, and sleepless nights, are next to proverbial. These
circumstances are sufficient almost to level their condition to that of
the unhappy majority; but there are other circumstances which place
them, in a far lower condition. Not only their understandings labor
continually, which is the severest labor, but their hearts are torn by
the worst, most troublesome, and insatiable of all passions, by avarice,
by ambition, by fear and jealousy. No part of the mind has rest. Power
gradually extirpates from the mind every humane and gentle virtue. Pity,
benevolence, friendship, are things almost unknown in high stations.
_Verae amicitiae rarissime inveniuntur in iis qui in honoribus reque
publica versantur_, says Cicero. And indeed courts are the schools where
cruelty, pride, dissimulation, and treachery are studied and taught in
the most vicious perfection. This is a point so clear and acknowledged,
that if it did not make a necessary part of my subject, I should pass it
by entirely. And this has hindered me from drawing at full length, and
in the most striking colors, this shocking picture of the degeneracy and
wretchedness of human nature, in that part which is vulgarly thought its
happiest and most amiable state. You know from what originals I could
copy such pictures. Happy are they who know enough of them to know the
little value of the possessors of such things, and of all that they
possess; and happy they who have been snatched from that post of danger
which they occupy, with the remains of their virtue; loss of honors,
wealth, titles, and even the loss of one's country, is nothing in
balance with so great an advantage.

Let us now view the other species of the rich, those who devote their
time and fortunes to idleness and pleasure. How much happier are they?
The pleasures which are agreeable to nature are within the reach of all,
and therefore can form no distinction in favor of the rich. The
pleasures which art forces up are seldom sincere, and never satisfying.
What is worse, this constant application to pleasure takes away from the
enjoyment, or rather turns it into the nature of a very burdensome and
laborious business. It has consequences much more fatal. It produces a
weak valetudinary state of body, attended by all those horrid disorders,
and yet more horrid methods of cure, which are the result of luxury on
the one hand, and the weak and ridiculous efforts of human art on the
other. The pleasures of such men are scarcely felt as pleasures; at the
same time that they bring on pains and diseases, which are felt but too
severely. The mind has its share of the misfortune; it grows lazy and
enervate, unwilling and unable to search for truth, and utterly
uncapable of knowing, much less of relishing, real happiness. The poor
by their excessive labor, and the rich by their enormous luxury, are set
upon a level, and rendered equally ignorant of any knowledge which might
conduce to their happiness. A dismal view of the interior of all civil
society! The lower part broken and ground down by the most cruel
oppression; and the rich by their artificial method of life bringing
worse evils on themselves than their tyranny could possibly inflict on
those below them. Very different is the prospect of the natural state.
Here there are no wants which nature gives, and in this state men can be
sensible of no other wants, which are not to be supplied by a very
moderate degree of labor; therefore there is no slavery. Neither is
there any luxury, because no single man can supply the materials of it.
Life is simple, and therefore it is happy.

I am conscious, my lord, that your politician will urge in his defence,
that this unequal state is highly useful. That without dooming some part
of mankind to extraordinary toil, the arts which cultivate life could
not be exercised. But I demand of this politician, how such arts came to
be necessary? He answers, that civil society could not well exist
without them. So that these arts are necessary to civil society, and
civil society necessary again to these arts. Thus are we running in a
circle, without modesty, and without end, and making one error and
extravagance an excuse for the other. My sentiments about these arts and
their cause, I have often discoursed with my friends at large. Pope has
expressed them in good verse, where he talks with so much force of
reason and elegance of language, in praise of the state of nature:

"Then was not pride, nor arts that pride to aid,
Man walked with beast, joint tenant of the shade."

On the whole, my lord, if political society, in whatever form, has still
made the many the property of the few; if it has introduced labors
unnecessary, vices and diseases unknown, and pleasures incompatible
with nature; if in all countries it abridges the lives of millions, and
renders those of millions more utterly abject and miserable, shall we
still worship so destructive an idol, and daily sacrifice to it our
health, our liberty, and our peace? Or shall we pass by this monstrous
heap of absurd notions, and abominable practices, thinking we have
sufficiently discharged our duty in exposing the trifling, cheats, and
ridiculous juggles of a few mad, designing, or ambitious priests? Alas!
my lord, we labor under a mortal consumption, whilst we are so anxious
about the cure of a sore finger. For has not this leviathan of civil
power overflowed the earth with a deluge of blood, as if he were made to
disport and play therein? We have shown that political society, on a
moderate calculation, has been the means of murdering several times the
number of inhabitants now upon the earth, during its short existence,
not upwards of four thousand years in any accounts to be depended on.
But we have said nothing of the other, and perhaps as bad, consequence
of these wars, which have spilled such seas of blood, and reduced so
many millions to a merciless slavery. But these are only the ceremonies
performed in the porch of the political temple. Much more horrid ones
are seen as you enter it. The several species of government vie with
each other in the absurdity of their constitutions, and the oppression
which they make their subjects endure. Take them under what form you
please, they are in effect but a despotism, and they fall, both in
effect and appearance too, after a very short period, into that cruel
and detestable species of tyranny: which I rather call it, because we
have been educated under another form, than that this is of worse
consequences to mankind. For the free governments, for the point of
their space, and the moment of their duration, have felt more confusion,
and committed more flagrant acts of tyranny, than the most perfect
despotic governments which we have ever known. Turn your eye next to the
labyrinth of the law, and the iniquity conceived in its intricate
recesses. Consider the ravages committed in the bowels of all
commonwealths by ambition, by avarice, envy, fraud, open injustice, and
pretended friendship; vices which could draw little support from a state
of nature, but which blossom and flourish in the rankness of political
society. Revolve our whole discourse; add to it all those reflections
which your own good understanding shall suggest, and make a strenuous
effort beyond the reach of vulgar philosophy, to confess that the cause
of artificial society is more defenceless even than that of artificial
religion; that it is as derogatory from the honor of the Creator, as
subversive of human reason, and productive of infinitely more mischief
to the human race.

If pretended revelations have caused wars where they were opposed, and
slavery where they were received, the pretended wise inventions of
politicians have done the same. But the slavery has been much heavier,
the wars far more bloody, and both more universal by many degrees. Show
me any mischief produced by the madness or wickedness of theologians,
and I will show you a hundred resulting from the ambition and villany of
conquerors and statesmen. Show me an absurdity in religion, and I will
undertake to show you a hundred for one in political laws and
institutions. If you say that natural religion is a sufficient guide
without the foreign aid of revelation, on what principle should
political laws become necessary? Is not the same reason available in
theology and in politics? If the laws of nature are the laws of God, is
it consistent with the Divine wisdom to prescribe rules to us, and leave
the enforcement of them to the folly of human institutions? Will you
follow truth but to a certain point?

We are indebted for all our miseries to our distrust of that guide which
Providence thought sufficient for our condition, our own natural reason,
which rejecting both in human and divine things, we have given our necks
to the yoke of political and theological slavery. We have renounced the
prerogative of man, and it is no wonder that we should be treated like
beasts. But our misery is much greater than theirs, as the crime we
commit in rejecting the lawful dominion of our reason is greater than
any which they can commit. If, after all, you should confess all these
things, yet plead the necessity of political institutions, weak and
wicked as they are, I can argue with equal, perhaps superior, force,
concerning the necessity of artificial religion; and every step you
advance in your argument, you add a strength to mine. So that if we are
resolved to submit our reason, and our liberty to civil usurpation, we
have nothing to do but to conform as quietly as we can to the vulgar
notions which are connected with this, and take up the theology of the
vulgar as well as their politics. But if we think this necessity rather
imaginary than real, we should renounce their dreams of society,
together with their visions of religion, and vindicate ourselves into
perfect liberty.

You are, my lord, but just entering into the world; I am going out of
it. I have played long enough to be heartily tired of the drama. Whether
I have acted my part in it well or ill, posterity will judge with more
candor than I, or than the present age, with our present passions, can
possibly pretend to. For my part, I quit it without a sigh, and submit
to the sovereign order without murmuring. The nearer we approach to the
goal of life, the better we begin to understand the true value of our
existence, and the real weight of our opinions. We set out much in love
with both; but we leave much behind us as we advance. We first throw
away the tales along with the rattles of our nurses: those of the priest
keep their hold a little longer; those of our governors the longest of
all. But the passions which prop these opinions are withdrawn one after
another; and the cool light of reason, at the setting of our life, shows
us what a false splendor played upon these objects during our more
sanguine seasons. Happy, my lord, if instructed by my experience, and
even by my errors, you come early to make such an estimate of things, as
may give freedom and ease to your life. I am happy that such an estimate
promises me comfort at my death.

FOOTNOTES:

[8] Had his lordship lived to our days, to have seen the noble relief
given by this nation to the distressed Portuguese, he had perhaps owned
this part of his argument a little weakened; but we do not think
ourselves entitled to alter his lordship's words, but that we are bound
to follow him exactly.

[9] Sciant quibus moris illicita mirari, posse etiam sub malis
principibus magnos viros, &c. See 42, to the end of it.

A

PHILOSOPHICAL INQUIRY

INTO THE ORIGIN OF OUR IDEAS OF

THE SUBLIME AND BEAUTIFUL

WITH

AN INTRODUCTORY DISCOURSE

CONCERNING

TASTE,

AND SEVERAL OTHER ADDITIONS

*** _The first edition of this work was published in 1756;
the second with large additions, in the year 1757._

PREFACE.

I have endeavored to make this edition something more full and
satisfactory than the first. I have sought with the utmost care, and
read with equal attention, everything which has appeared in public
against my opinions; I have taken advantage of the candid liberty of my
friends; and if by these means I have been better enabled to discover
the imperfections of the work, the indulgence it has received, imperfect
as it was, furnished me with a new motive to spare no reasonable pains
for its improvement. Though I have not found sufficient reason, or what
appeared to me sufficient, for making any material change in my theory,
I have found it necessary in many places to explain, illustrate, and
enforce it. I have prefixed an introductory discourse concerning Taste;
it is a matter curious in itself; and it leads naturally enough to the
principal inquiry. This, with the other explanations, has made the work
considerably larger; and by increasing its bulk has, I am afraid, added
to its faults; so that notwithstanding all my attention, it may stand in
need of a yet greater share of indulgence than it required at its first
appearance.

They who are accustomed to studies of this nature will expect, and they
will allow too for many faults. They know that many of the objects of
our inquiry are in themselves obscure and intricate; and that many
others have been rendered so by affected refinements, or false learning;
they know that there are many impediments in the subject, in the
prejudices of others, and even in our own, that render it a matter of no
small difficulty to show in a clear light the genuine face of nature.
They know that whilst the mind is intent on the general scheme of
things, some particular parts must be neglected; that we must often
submit the style to the matter, and frequently give up the praise of
elegance, satisfied with being clear.

The characters of nature are legible, it is true; but they are not plain
enough to enable those who run, to read them. We must make use of a
cautious, I had almost said, a timorous method of proceeding. We must
not attempt to fly, when we can scarcely pretend to creep. In
considering any complex matter, we ought to examine every distinct
ingredient in the composition, one by one; and reduce everything to the
utmost simplicity; since the condition of our nature binds us to a
strict law and very narrow limits. We ought afterwards to re-examine the
principles by the effect of the composition, as well as the composition
by that of the principles. We ought to compare our subject with things
of a similar nature, and even with things of a contrary nature; for
discoveries may be, and often are made by the contrast, which would
escape us on the single view. The greater number of the comparisons we
make, the more general and the more certain our knowledge is likely to
prove, as built upon a more extensive and perfect induction.

If an inquiry thus carefully conducted should fail at last of
discovering the truth, it may answer an end perhaps as useful, in
discovering to us the weakness of our own understanding. If it does not
make us knowing, it may make us modest. If it does not preserve us from
error, it may at least from the spirit of error; and may make us
cautious of pronouncing with positiveness or with haste, when so much
labor may end in so much uncertainty.

I could wish that, in examining this theory, the same method were
pursued which I endeavored to observe in forming it. The objections, in
my opinion, ought to be proposed, either to the several principles as
they are distinctly considered, or to the justness of the conclusion
which is drawn from them. But it is common to pass over both the
premises and conclusion in silence, and to produce, as an objection,
some poetical passage which does not seem easily accounted for upon the
principles I endeavor to establish. This manner of proceeding I should
think very improper. The task would be infinite, if we could establish
no principle until we had previously unravelled the complex texture of
every image or description to be found in poets and orators. And though
we should never be able to reconcile the effect of such images to our
principles, this can never overturn the theory itself, whilst it is
founded on certain and indisputable facts. A theory founded on
experiment, and not assumed, is always good for so much as it explains.
Our inability to push it indefinitely is no argument at all against it.
This inability may be owing to our ignorance of some necessary
_mediums_; to a want of proper application; to many other causes besides
a defect in the principles we employ. In reality, the subject requires a
much closer attention than we dare claim from our manner of treating
it.

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