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the vices of some persons at the first sight only, out of love to their aspect. The contrary of pity is hardness of heart, proceeding either from slowness of imagination, or some extreme great opinion of their own exemption from the like calamity, or from hatred of all or most men.

Indignation is that grief which consisteth in the conception of good success happening to them whom they think unworthy thereof. Seeing, therefore, men think all those unworthy whom they hate, they think them not only unworthy of the good fortune they have, but also of their own virtues. And of all the passions of the mind, these two, indignation and pity, are most raised and increased by eloquence; for the aggravation of the calamity, and extenuation of the fault, augmenteth pity; and the extenuation of the worth of the person, together with the magnifying of his success, which are the parts of an orator, are able to turn these two passions into fury.

[Emulation and Envy.]

Emulation is grief arising from seeing one's self exceeded or excelled by his concurrent, together with hope to equal or exceed him in time to come, by his own ability. But onvy is the same grief joined with pleasure conceived in the imagination of some ill-fortune that may befall him.

[Laughter.]

There is a passion that hath no name; but the sign of it is that distortion of the countenance which we call laughter, which is always joy: but what joy, what we think, and wherein we triumph when we laugh, is not hitherto declared by any. That it consisteth in wit, or, as they call it, in the jest, experience confuteth; for men laugh at mischances and indecencies, wherein there lieth no wit nor jest at all. And forasmuch as the same thing is no more ridiculous when it groweth stale or usual, whatsoever it be that moveth laughter, it must be new and unexpected. Men laugh often (especially such as are greedy of applause from everything they do well) at their own actions performed never so little beyond their own expectations; as also at their own jests: and in this case it is manifest that the passion of laughter proceedeth from a sudden conception of some ability in himself that laugheth. Also, men laugh at the infirmities of others, by comparison wherewith their own abilities are set off and illustrated. Also

men laugh at jests, the wit whereof always consisteth in the elegant discovering and conveying to our minds some absurdity of another; and in this case also the passion of laughter proceeded from the sudden imagination of our own odds and eminency; for what is else the recommending of ourselves to our own good opinion, by comparison with another's man's infirmity or absurdity? For when a jest is broken upon ourselves, or friends, of whose dishonour we participate, we never laugh thereat. I may therefore conclude, that the passion of laughter is nothing else but sudden glory arising from a sudden conception of some eminency in ourselves, by comparison with the infirmity of others, or with our own formerly; for men laugh at the follies of themselves past, when they come suddenly to remembrance, except they bring with them any present dishonour. It is no wonder, therefore, that inen take heinously to be laughed at or derided; that is, triumphed over. Laughing without offence, must be at absurdities and infirmities abstracted from persons, and when all the company may laugh together; for laughing to one's self putteth all the rest into jealousy, and examination of themselves. Besides, it is vain glory, and an argument of little worth, to think the infirmity of another sufficient matter for his triumph.

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[Love of Knowledge.]

Forasmuch as all knowledge beginneth from experience, therefore also new experience is the beginning of new knowledge, and the increase of experience the beginning of the increase of knowledge. Whatsoever, therefore, happeneth new to a man, giveth him matter of hope of knowing somewhat that he knew not before. And this hope and expectation of future knowledge from anything that happeneth new and strange, is that passion which we commonly call admiration; and the same considered as appetite, is called curiosity, which is appetite of knowledge. As in the discerning of faculties, man leaveth all community with beasts at the faculty of imposing names, so also doth he surmount their nature at this passion of curiosity. For when a beast seeth anything new and strange to him, he considereth it so far only as to discern whether it be likely to serve his turn or hurt him, and accordingly approacheth nearer to it, or fleeth from it: whereas man, who in most events remembereth in

what manner they were caused and begun, looketh for the cause and beginning of everything that ariseth new unto him. And from this passion of admiration and curiosity, have arisen not only the invention of names, but also supposition of such causes of all things as they thought might produce them. And from this beginning is derived all philosophy, as astronomy from the admiration of the course of heaven; natural philosophy from the strange effects of the elements and other bodies. And from the degrees of curiosity proceed also the degrees of knowledge amongst men; for, to a man in the chase of riches or authority (which in respect of knowledge are but sensuality), it is a diversity of little pleasure, whether it be the motion of the sun or the earth that maketh the day; or to enter into other contemplations of any strange accident, otherwise than whether it conduce or not to the end he pursueth. Because curiosity is delight, therefore also novelty is so; but especially that novelty from which a man conceiveth an opinion, true or false, of bettering his own estate; for, in such case, they stand affected with the hope that all gamesters have while the cards are shuffling.

The following passages are extracted from Hobbes's works on

The Necessity of the Will.

that is to say, whether he can write or forbear, speak The question is not, whether a man be a free agent, will to write, and the will to forbear, come upon him or be silent, according to his will; but whether the according to his will, or according to anything else in can do if I will; but to say, I can will if I will, I take his own power. I acknowledge this liberty, that I to be an absurd speech.

[In answer to Bishop Bramhall's assertion, that the doctrine of free will is the belief of all mankind, which we have not learned from our tutors, but is imprinted in our hearts by nature']-It is true, very few have learned from tutors, that a man is not free to will; nor do they find it much in books. That they find in books, that which the poets chaunt in the theatres, and the shepherds on the mountains, that which the pastors teach in the churches, and the doctors in the universities, and that which the common people in the markets and all mankind in the whole world do assent unto, is the same that I assent unto; namely, that a man hath freedom to do if he will; but whether he hath freedom to will, is a question which it seems neither the bishop nor they ever thought on. A wooden top that is lashed by the boys, and runs about, sometimes to one wall, sometimes to another, sometimes spinning, sometimes

hitting men on the shins, if it were sensible of its own motion, would think it proceeded from its own will, unless it felt what lashed it. And is a man any wiser when he runs to one place for a benefice, to another for a bargain, and troubles the world with writing errors, and requiring answers, because he thinks he does it without other cause than his own will, and seeth not what are the lashings that cause that will?

* *

[Concerning the justice of punishing criminals on the supposition of necessity of the will, he remarks] -The intention of the law is not to grieve the delinquent for that which is past, and not to be undone, but to make him and others just, that else would not be so; and respecteth not the evil act past, but the good to come; insomuch as, without the good intention for the future, no past act of a delinquent could justify his killing in the sight of God. But you will say, How is it just to kill one man to amend another, if what were done were necessary? To this I answer, that men are justly killed, not for that their actions are not necessitated, but because they are noxious; and that they are spared and preserved whose actions are not noxious. For where there is no law, there no killing, nor anything else, can be unjust; and by the right of nature we destroy (without being unjust) all that is noxious, both beasts and men. When we make societies or commonwealths, we lay down our right to kill, excepting in certain cases, as murder, theft, or other offensive action; so that the right which the commonwealth hath to put a man to death for crimes, is not created by the law, but remains from the first right of nature which every man hath to preserve himself; for that the law doth not take that right away in the case of criminals, who were by law excepted. Men are not, therefore, put to death, or punished, for that their theft proceedeth from election; but because it was noxious, and contrary to men's preservation, and the punishment conducing to the preservation of the rest; inasmuch as, to punish those that do voluntary hurt, and none else, frameth and maketh men's wills such as men would have them. And thus it is plain, that from the necessity of a voluntary action cannot be inferred the injustice of the law that forbiddeth it, or of the magistrate that punisheth it.

tract on Human Nature has scarcely an ambiguous or a needless word. He has so great a power of always choosing the most significant term, that he never is reduced to the poor expedient of using many in its stead. He had so thoroughly studied the genius of the language, and knew so well to steer between pedantry and vulgarity, that two centuries have not superannuated probably more than a dozen of his words.'* Among his greatest philosophical errors are those of making no distinction between the intellectual and emotive faculties of man-of representing all human actions as the results of intellectual deliberation alone-and of in every case deriving just and benevolent actions from a cool survey of the advantages to self which may be expected to flow from them. In short, he has given to neither the moral nor the social sentiments a place in his scheme of human nature. The opponents of this selfish system have been numberless; nor is the controversy terminated even at the present day. The most eminent of those who have ranged themselves against Hobbes are Cumberland, Cudworth, Shaftesbury, Clarke, Butler, Hutcheson, Kames, Smith, Stewart, and Brown.

LORD HERBERT.

Among the distinguished persons whom we have mentioned as intimate with Hobbes, is LORD HERBERT OF CHERBURY (1581-1648), a brave and high-spirited man, at a time when honourable feeling was rare at the English court. Like the philosopher of Malmesbury, he distinguished himself as a free-thinker; and, says Dr Leland, as he was one of the first, so he was confessedly one of the greatest writers that have appeared among us in the deistical cause.' He was born at Eyton, in Shropshire, studied at Oxford, and acquired, both at home and on the continent, a high reputation for the almost Quixotic chivalry of his character. In 1616 he was sent as ambassador to Paris, at which place he published, in 1624, his celebrated deistical book, De Veritate, prout distinguitur à Revelatione Verisimili, Possibili, et à Falso-[' Of Truth, as it is distinguished from Probable, Possible, and False Revelation']. In this work, the first in which deism was ever reduced to a system, the author maintains the sufficiency, universality, and absolute per[As to praise or dispraise]-These depend not fection of natural religion, and the consequent useat all on the necessity of the action praised or dis-lessness of supernatural revelation. This universal praised. For what is it else to praise, but to say a religion he reduces to the following articles:-1. thing good? Good, I say, for me, or for somebody That there is one supreme God. 2. That he is else, or for the state and commonwealth. And what is it to say an action is good, but to say it is as I would chiefly to be worshipped. 3. That piety and virtue wish, or as another would have it, or according to the are the principal part of his worship. 4. That we will of the state; that is to say, according to the law? must repent of our sins, and if we do so, God will pardon them. 5. That good men are rewarded, and Does my lord think that no action can please me, or bad men punished, in a future state; or, as he somehim, or the commonwealth, that should proceed from times expresses it, both here and hereafter. necessity? Things may be therefore necessary, and reprinting the work at London in 1645, he added yet praiseworthy, as also necessary, and yet dispraised, two tracts, De Causis Errorum [Of the Causes and neither of them both in vain; because praise of Error'], and De Religione Laici [Of the Reliand dispraise, and likewise reward and punishment, gion of a Layman']; and soon afterwards he pubdo, by example, make and conform the will to lished another book, entitled De Religione Gentilium, good or evil. It was a very great praise, in my Errorumque apud eos Causis, of which an English opinion, that Velleius Paterculus gives Cato, where he says, that he was good by nature, et quia aliter translation appeared in 1705, entitled 'The Ancient esse non potuit'-[and because he could not be Religion of the Gentiles, and Cause of their Errors, otherwise."]

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The style of Hobbes is characterised by Sir James Mackintosh as the very perfection of didactic language. Short, clear, precise, pithy, his language never has more than one meaning, which never requires a second thought to find. By the help of his exact method, it takes so firm a hold on the mind, that it will not allow attention to slacken. His little

In

Considered.' The treatise 'De Veritate' was answered by the French philosopher Gassendi, and numerous replies have appeared in England. Lord Herbert wrote a History of the Life and Reign of King Henry VIII., death. It is termed by Lord Orford a masterpiece which was not printed till 1649, the year after his

* Second Preliminary Dissertation to Encyclopædia Britan

nica,' p. 318.

+ Leland's View of the Deistical Writers, Letter II.

of historic biography;' and in Bishop Nicolson's opinion, the author has acquitted himself with the like reputation as Lord Chancellor Bacon gained by the Life of Henry VII., having, in the polite and martial part, been admirably exact, from the best records that remain.' He has been accused, however, of partiality to the tyrannical monarch whose actions he relates, and of having produced rather a panegyric, or an apology, than a fair and judicious representation. As to style, the work is considered one of the best old specimens of historical composition in the language, being manly and vigorous, and unsullied by the quaintness and pedantry of the age. Lord Herbert is remarkable also as the earliest of our autobiographers. The memoirs which he left of his own life were first printed in 1764, and have ever since been popular. In the following extract, there is evidence of the singular fact, that though he conceived revelation unnecessary in a religious point of view, he seriously looked for a communication of the Divine will as to the publication or suppression of his principal work:—

[Sir Thomas More's Resignation of the Great Seal.] Sir Thomas More, Lord Chancellor of England, after divers suits to be discharged of his place (which he had held two years and a-half), did at length by the king's good leave resign it. The example whereof being rare, will give me occasion to speak more particularly of him. Sir Thomas More, a person of sharp wit, and endued besides with excellent parts of learning (as his works may testify), was yet (out of I know not what natural facetiousness) given so much to jesting, that it detracted no little from the gravity and importance of his place, which, though generally noted and disliked, I do not think was enough to make him give it over in that merriment we shal find anon, or retire to a private life. Neither can I believe him so much addicted to his private opinions as to detest all other governments but his own Utopia, so that it is probable some vehement desire to follow his book, or secret offence taken against some person tended marriage, or the like, might be accounted) or matter (among which perchance the king's new inoccasioned this strange counsel; though, yet, I find no My book, De Veritate, prout distinguitur à Reve- reason pretended for it, but infirmity and want of latione Verisimili, Possibili, et à Falso, having been health. Our king hereupon taking the seal, and giv begun by me in England, and formed there in all its ing it, together with the order of knighthood, to principal parts, was about this time finished; all the Thomas Audeley, speaker of the Lower House, Sir spare hours which I could get from my visits and Thomas More, without acquainting any body with negotiations being employed to perfect this work, what he had done, repairs to his family at Chelsea, which was no sooner done, but that I communicated where, after a mass celebrated the next day in the it to Hugo Grotius, that great scholar, who, having church, he comes to his lady's pew, with his hat in escaped his prison in the Low Countries, came into his hand (an office formerly done by one of his gentleFrance, and was much welcomed by me and Monsieur men), and says, 'Madam, my lord is gone.' But she Tieleners also, one of the greatest scholars of his time, thinking this at first to be but one of his jests, was little moved, till he told her sadly, he had given up who, after they had perused it, and given it more commendations than it is fit for me to repeat, exthe great seal; whereupon she speaking some pashorted me earnestly to print and publish it; howbeit, sionate words, he called his daughters then present to as the frame of my whole book was so different from see if they could not spy some fault about their anything which had been written heretofore, I found mother's dressing; but they after search saying they I must either renounce the authority of all that had could find none, he replied, Do you not perceive that written formerly concerning the method of finding out your mother's nose standeth somewhat awry?'-of truth, and consequently insist upon my own way, or which jeer the provoked lady was so sensible, that she hazard myself to a general censure, concerning the went from him in a rage. Shortly after, he acquainted whole argument of my book; I must confess it did not his servants with what he had done, dismissing them a little animate me, that the two great persons above- also to the attendance of some other great personages, mentioned did so highly value it, yet, as I knew it to whom he had recommended them. For his fool, he would meet with much opposition, I did consider bestowed him on the lord mayor during his office, and whether it was not better for me a while to suppress afterwards on his successors in that charge. And now it. Being thus doubtful in my chamber, one fair day coming to himself, he began to consider how much he in the summer, my casement being open towards the had left, and finding that it was not above one hunsouth, the sun shining clear, and no wind stirring, I dred pounds yearly in lands, besides some money, he took my book De Veritate' in my hand, and, kneel-advised with his daughters how to live together. But ing on my knees, devoutly said these words:

O thou eternal God, author of the light which now shines upon me, and giver of all inward illuminations, I do beseech thee, of thy infinite goodness, to pardon a greater request than a sinner ought to make; I am not satisfied enough whether I shall publish this book De Veritate; if it be for thy glory, I beseech thee give me some sign from heaven; if not, I shall suppress it.'

the grieved gentlewomen (who knew not what to reply, or indeed how to take these jests) remaining astonished, he says, 'We will begin with the slender diet of the students of the law, and if that will not hold out, we will take such commons as they have at Oxford; which yet if our purse will not stretch to maintain, for our last refuge we will go a-begging, and alms. But these jests were thought to have in them at every man's door sing together a Salve Regina to get I had no sooner spoken these words, but a loud, more levity, than to be taken everywhere for current; though yet gentle noise, came from the heavens (for he might have quitted his dignity without using such it was like nothing on earth), which did so comfort sarcasms, and betaken himself to a more retired and and cheer me, that I took my petition as granted, and quiet life, without making them or himself contempthat I had the sign I demanded, whereupon also Itible. And certainly whatsoever he intended hereby, resolved to print my book.

his family so little understood his meaning, that they This, how strange soever it may seem, I protest cannot persuade myself for all this talk, that so exneeded some more serious instructions. So that I before the eternal God is true, neither am I any way cellent a person would omit at fit times to give his superstitiously deceived herein, since I did not only clearly hear the noise, but in the serenest sky that family that sober account of his relinquishing this ever I saw, being without all cloud, did to my think-place, which I find he did to the Archbishop Warham, ing see the place from whence it came. Erasmus, and others.

As a sample of his 'Life of Henry VIII,' take his account of

TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE.

One of the most important literary undertak

ings of this era was the execution of the present authorised translation of the Bible. At the great conference held in 1604 at Hampton Court, between the established and puritan clergy, the version of Scripture then existing was generally disapproved of, and the king consequently appointed fifty-four men, many of whom were eminent as Hebrew and Greek scholars, to commence a new translation. In 1607, forty-seven of the number met, in six parties, at Oxford, Cambridge, and Westminster, and proceeded to their task, a certain portion of Scripture being assigned to each. Every individual of each division, in the first place, translated the portion assigned to the division, all of which translations were collected; and when each party had determined on the construction of its part, it was proposed to the other divisions for general approbation. When they met together, one read the new version, whilst all the rest held in their hands either copies of the original, or some valuable version; and on any one objecting to a passage, the reader stopped till it was agreed upon. The result was published in 1611, and has ever since been reputed as a translation generally faithful, and an excellent specimen of the language of the time. Being universally read by all ranks of the people, it has contributed most essentially to give stability and uniformity to the English tongue.

KING JAMES I.

that such devilish arts have been and are: the other, what exact trial and severe punishment they merit: and therefore reason I, what kind of things are possible to be performed in these arts, and by what natural causes they may be. Not that I touch every particular thing of the devil's power, for that were infinite: but only, to speak scholasticly (since this cannot be spoken in our language), I reason upon genus, leaving species and differentia to be comprehended therein. As, for example, speaking of the power of magicians in the first book and sixth chapter, I say that they can suddenly cause be brought unto them all kinds of dainty dishes by their familiar spirit: since as a thief he delights to steal, and as a spirit he can subtilly and suddenly enough transport the same. Now, under this genus may be comprehended all particulars depending thereupon; such as the bringing wine out of a wall (as we have heard oft to have been practised and such others; which particulars are sufficiently proved by the reasons of the general.

[How Witches Travel.].

Philomathes. But by what way say they, or think ye it possible, they can come to these unlawful conven. tions?

Epistemon. There is the thing which I esteem their senses to be deluded in, and, though they lie not in confessing of it, because they think it to be true, yet not to be so in substance or effect, for they say, that by divers means they may convene either to the adorKING JAMES was himself an author, but his works ing of their master, or to the putting in practice any are now considered merely as curiosities. His most service of his committed unto their charge; one way is celebrated productions are the Basilicon Doron, Da-natural, which is natural riding, going, or sailing, at monology, and A Counterblast to Tobacco. The first was written, for the instruction of his son Prince Henry, a short time before the union of the crowns, and seems not to have been originally intended for the press. In the Dæmonology,' the British Solomon displays his wisdom and learning in maintaining the existence and criminality of witches, and discussing the manner in which their feats are performed. Our readers will be amused by the following extracts from this performance, the first of which is from the preface:

[Sorcery and Witchcraft.]

The fearful abounding at this time in this country

of these detestable slaves of the devil, the witches or

what hour their master comes and advertises them. And this way may be easily believed. Another way is somewhat more strange, and yet it is possible to be true: which is by being carried by the force of the spirit which is their conductor, either above the earth or above the sea, swiftly, to the place where they are to meet: which I am persuaded to be likewise possible, in respect that as Habakkuk was carried by the angel in that form to the den where Daniel lay, so think I the devil will be ready to imitate God, as well in that as in other things: which is much more possible to him to do, being a spirit, than to a mighty wind, being but a natural meteor, to transport from one place to another a solid body as is commonly and daily seen in practice. But in this violent form they cannot be carried but a short bounds, agreeing with the space

that they may retain their breath: for if it were longer, their breath could not remain unextinguished, their body being carried in such a violent and forcible his life is but in peril, according to the hard or soft manner, as, by example, if one fall off a small height, lighting; but if one fall from a high and stayl rock, fore he can win2 to the earth, as is oft seen by experi his breath will be forcibly banished from the body be ence. And in this transporting they say themselves. that they are invisible to any other, except amongst themselves. For if the devil may form what kind of impressions he pleases in the air, as I have said before, speaking of magic, why may he not far easier thicken and obscure so the air that is next about them, by con

enchanters, hath moved me (beloved reader) to despatch in post this following treatise of mine, not in any wise (as I protest) to serve for a show of my learning and ingine, but only, moved of conscience, to press thereby, so far as I can, to resolve the doubting hearts of many; both that such assaults of Sathan are most certainly practised, and that the instruments thereof merits most severely to be punished: against the damnable opinions of two principally in our age, whereof the one called Scot, an Englishman, is not ashamed in public print to deny that there can be such a thing as witchcraft; and so maintains the old error of the Sadducees in denying of spirits. The other called Wierus, a German physician, sets out a public apology for all these crafts-folks, whereby, pro-tracting it strait together, that the beams of any other curing for their impunity, he plainly bewrays himself to have been one of that profession. And for to make this treatise the more pleasant and facile, I have put it in form of a dialogue, which I have divided into three books the first speaking of magic in general, and necromancy in special: the second, of sorcery and witchcraft and the third contains a discourse of all these kinds of spirits, and spectres that appears and troubles persons: together with a conclusion of the whole work. My intention in this labour is only to prove two things, as I have already said: the one,

man's eyes cannot pierce through the same, to see them? But the third way of their coming to their conventions is that wherein I think them deluded: for some of them saith that, being transformed in the likeness of a little beast or fowl, they will come and pierce through whatsoever house or church, though all ordinary passages be closed, by whatsoever open the air may enter in at. And some saith, that their bo lies lying still, as in an ecstacy, their spirits will be

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non, he used to go down to the river near Oxford and dispel the gloom by listening to the coarse jests and ribaldry of the bargemen, which excited his violent laughter. To alleviate his mental distress, he wrote a book, entitled The Anatomy of Melancholy, which appeared in 1621, and presents, in quaint language, and with many shrewd and amusing remarks, a view of all the modifications of that disease, and the manner of curing it. The erudition displayed in this work is extraordinary, every page abounding with quotations from Latin authors. It was so successful at first, that the publisher realised a fortune by it; and Warton says, that the author's variety of learning, his quotations from scarce and curious books, his pedantry, sparkling with rude wit and shapeless elegance, miscellaneous matter, intermixture of agreeable tales and illustrations, and, perhaps above all, the singularities of his feelings, clothed in an uncommon quaintness of style, have contributed to render it, even to modern readers, a valuable repository of amusement and information.' It delighted Dr Johnson so much, that he said this was the only book that ever took him out of bed two hours sooner than he wished to rise.' Its reputation was considerably extended by the publication of Illustrations of Sterne,' in 1798, by the late Dr Ferriar of Manchester, who convicted that writer of copying passages,

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verbatim, from Burton, without acknowledgment. Many others have, with like silence, extracted materials from his pages. The book has lately been more than once reprinted.

Prefixed to the Anatomy of Melancholy' is a poem of twelve stanzas, from which Milton has borrowed some of the imagery of his 'Il Penserose. The first six stanzas are as follows:

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