Suppose, then, continued he, that our supplies were to be mended; for instance, that we were to exchange acorns for bread; would our savage character be sufficient here? Must we not be a little better disciplined? Would not some art be requisite? The baker's, for example.-It would. And previously to the baker's, that of the miller?-It would.-And previously to the miller's, that of the husbandman?-It would.-Three arts, then, appear necessary, even upon the lowest estimation.--It is admitted. But a question further, said he can the husbandman work, think you, without his tools? Must he not have his plough, his harrow, his reap-hook, and the like?-He must. And must not those other artists, too, be furnished in the same manner?— They must. And whence must they be furnished? From their own arts? Or are not the making tools, and the using them, two different occupations?-I believe, said I, they are. You may be convinced, continued he, by small recollection: does agriculture make its own plough, its own harrow? Or does it not apply to other arts for all necessaries of this kind?-It does.Again: does the baker build his own oven, or the miller frame his own mill?-It appears, said I, no part of their business.

What a tribe of mechanics, then, said he, are advancing upon us: smiths, carpenters, masons, mill-wrights; and all these to provide the single necessary of bread. Not less than seven or eight arts, we find, are wanting at the fewest.-It appears so.And what, if to the providing a comfortable cottage, and raiment suitable to an industrious hind, we allow a dozen arts more? It would be easy, by the same reasoning, to prove the number double. I admit the number, said I, mentioned.

If so, continued he, it should seem, that towards a tolerable supply of the three primary and common necessaries, food, raiment, and a dwelling, not less than twenty arts were, on the lowest account, requisite.-It appears so.

And is one man equal, think you, to the exercise of these twenty arts? If he had even genius, which we can scarce imagine, is it possible he should find leisure?-I replied, I thought not.If so, then a solitary, unsocial state, can never supply tolerably the common necessaries of life.-It cannot.

But what if we pass from the necessaries of life to the elegancies? to music, sculpture, painting, and poetry? What if we pass from all arts, whether necessary or elegant, to the large and various tribe of sciences? to logic, mathematics, astronomy, physics? Can one man, imagine you, master all this?-Absurd, said I, impossible. And yet in this cycle of sciences and arts seem included all the comforts, as well as ornaments of life; included all conducive, either to being, or to well-being. It must be confessed, said I, it has the appearance.

What, then, said he, must be done? In what manner must we be supplied?--I answered, I knew not, unless we made a dis

tribution. Let one exercise one art, and another a different; let this man study such a science, and that man another. Thus the whole cycle (as you call it) may be carried easily into perfection. -It is true, said he, it may; and every individual, as far as his own art or science, might be supplied completely, and as well as he could wish. But what avails a supply in a single instance? What in this case are to become of all his numerous other wants? -You conceive, replied I, what I would have said, but partially. My meaning was, that artist trade with artist; each supply where he is deficient, by exchanging where he abounds; so that a portion of every thing may be dispersed throughout all. You intend then a state, said he, of commutation and traffic.-I replied, I did.

If so, continued he, I see a new face of things. The savages, with their skins and their caverns, disappear: in their place I behold a fair community rising. No longer woods, no longer solitude; but all is social, civil, and cultivated. And can we doubt any further whether society be natural? Is not this evidently the state which can best supply the primary wants?-It has appeared so. And did we not agree, some time since, that this state, whatever we found it, would be certainly of all others the most agreeable to our nature?-We did.-And have we not added, since this, to the weight of our argument, by passing from the necessary arts to the elegant; from the elegant to the sciences? We have.-The more, said he, we consider, the more shall we be convinced, that all these, the noblest honours and ornaments of the human mind, without that leisure, that experience, that emulation, that reward, which the social state. alone we know is able to provide them, could never have found existence, or been in the least recognised.-Indeed, said I, I believe not.

Let it not be forgot, then, said he, in favour of society," that to it we owe, not only the beginning and continuation, but the wellbeing, and (if I may use the expression) the very elegance and rationality of our existence.-I answered, it appeared evident.

And what, then, continued he, if society be thus agreeable to our nature, is there nothing, think you, within us, to excite and lead us to it? No impulse, no preparation of faculties?—It would be strange, answered I, if there should not. It would be a singular exception, said he, with respect to all other herding species. Let us, however, examine: pity, benevolence, friendship, love, the general dislike of solitude, and desire of company; are they natural affections which come of themselves, or are they taught us by art, like music and arithmetic?-I should think, replied I,

The whole argument to prove society natural to man, from p. 58, is taken from the second book of Plato's Republic. Sec Plat. vol. ii. p. 369, &c. edit. Serrani. See

also the same argument hinted at in the Protagoras of Plato, p. 322. C. edit. Serr. vol. i.

they were natural, because in every degree of men some traces of them may be discovered.-And are not the powers and capacities of speech, said he, the same? Are not all men naturally formed to express their sentiments by some kind of language?— I replied, they were.

If, then, said he, these several powers and dispositions are natural, so should seem too their exercise.-Admit it.-And if their exercise, then so too that state where alone they can be exercised. Admit it.-And what is this state but the social? Or where else is it possible to converse, or use our speech; to exhibit actions of pity, benevolence, friendship, or love; to relieve our aversion to solitude, or gratify our desire of being with others?—I replied, it could be nowhere else. You see, then, continued he, a preparation of faculties is not • The argument in favour of society, δίδονται ἡμῖν ὑπὸ τῆς φύσεως, πρὸς τὸ δι' from our being possessed of λόγος, or the αὐτῶν σημαίνειν ἡμᾶς ἀλλήλοις τῆς ψυχῆς speaking faculty, seems to have been much τὰ νοήματα—ἵνα καὶ δυνώμεθα κοινωνεῖν insisted on by the best authors of an- ἀλλήλοις, καὶ συμπολιτεύεσθαι κοινωνικὸν tiquity. γὰρ ζῶον ὁ ̓Ανθρωπος. “ Ideas are images of things in the soul, and sounds are declarative of these ideas. And for this reason were these sounds imparted to us by nature, not only that we might indicate to each other these ideas, but that we might be enabled to communicate and live in associations: for man is by nature a social animal." Ammon. in l. de Interpr. p. 16. B.

Διότι δὲ πολιτικὸν ὁ ̓Ανθρωπος ζῶον, πάσης μελίττης καὶ πάντος ἀγελαίου ζώου μᾶλλον, δῆλον. Οὐθὲν γὰρ, ὡς φάμεν, μάτην ἡ φύσις ποιεῖ· λόγον δὲ μόνον "Ανθρωπος ἔχει τῶν ζώων. Η μὲν οὖν φωνὴ τοῦ ἡδέος καὶ λυπηροῦ ἐστὶ σημεῖον. διὸ καὶ τοῖς ἄλλοις ὑπάρχει ζῶοις· μέχρι γὰρ TOÚTOV ʼn Qúois avtŵv éλhλubev, wore aloθάνεσθαι τοῦ λυπηροῦ καὶ ἡδέος, καὶ ταῦτα σημαίνειν ἀλλήλοις. Ὁ δὲ λόγος ἐπὶ τὸ δηλοῦν ἐστι τὸ σύμφερον, καὶ τὸ βλαβερόν. ὥστε καὶ τὸ δίκαιον, καὶ τὸ ἄδικον. Τοῦτο yàp #pòs Tà ăλλa (ŵa Toîs àvopúñois tdov, τὸ μόνον ἀγαθοῦ καὶ κακοῦ, καὶ δικαίου καὶ ἀδίκου αἴσθησιν ἔχειν· ἡ δὲ τούτων κοινωνία #olei oikiav kal móλ. "The reason why man is a social animal, more than any bee, or any herding species whatever, is evident from hence. Nature, we say, makes nothing in vain; and man, of all animals, is only possessed of speech. Bare sound, indeed, may be the sign of what is pleasurable or painful, and for that reason it is common even to other animals also: for so far we perceive even their nature can go, that they have a sense of those feelings, and signify them to each other. But speech is made to indicate what is expedient, and what hurtful; and, in consequence of this, what is just and unjust. It is therefore given to men, because this, with respect to other animals, is to men alone peculiar, that of good and evil, just and unjust, they only possess a sense or feeling. Now it is the participation or community of these which makes and constitutes both a family and a polity." Aristot. Polit. 1. i. c. 2.

Εἰκόνες γάρ εἰσιν ἐν τῇ ψυχῇ τῶν πραγμάτων [τὰ νοήματα]· αἱ δὲ φωναὶ τῶν νοημάτων εἰσὶν ἐξαγγελτικαί· καὶ διὰ τοῦτο

Thus Cicero, speaking of human nature: Omitto opportunitates habilitatesque reliqui corporis, moderationem vocis, orationis vim, quæ conciliatrix est humanæ maxume societatis. De Legg. 1. i. c. 9. p. 35. ed. Davis.

Again, in his Offices: Sed quæ natura principia sint communitatis et societatis humanæ, repetendum altius videtur. Est enim primum, quod cernitur in universi generis humani societate. Ejus enim vinculum est ratio, et oratio; quæ docendo, discendo, communicando, disceptando, dijudicando, conciliat inter se homines, conjungitque naturali quadam societate. De Offic. 1. i. c. 16.

Thus too, in his treatise De Nat. Deor.: Jam vero domina rerum (ut vos soletis dicere) eloquendi vis quam est præclara, quamque divina? Quæ primum efficit ut ca, quæ ignoramus, discere, et ea, quæ scimus, alios docere possimus. Deinde hac cohortamur, hac persuademus, hac consolamur afflictos, hac deducimus perterritos a timore, hac gestientes comprimimus, hac cupiditates iracundiasque restinguimus: hæc, nos juris, legum urbium societate devinxit: hæc a vita immani et fera segregavit. De Nat. Deor. 1. ii. c. 59. p. 243. ed. Davis. See also Quint. Inst. 1. ii. c. 16. and Alex. Aphrod. περὶ ψυχ. p. 155. B. ed. Ald. Sanctii Min. 1. i. c. 2. p. 15. Plat. in Sophista, p. 260. A. ed. Serr.

wanting. We are fitted with powers and dispositions which have only relation to society, and which, out of society, can nowhere else be exercised.-I replied, it was evident.-You have seen, too, the superior advantages of the social state above all others. -I have.

Let this then be remembered, said he, throughout all our future reasonings, remembered as a first principle in our ideas of humanity, that man by nature is truly a social animal.-I promised it should.

XIII. Let us now, said he, examine what further we can learn concerning him. As social, indeed, he is distinguished from the solitary and savage species; but in no degree from the rest, of a milder and more friendly nature.-It is true, replied I, he is not. Does he then differ no more from these several social species, than they, each of them, differ from one another? Must we range them all, and man among the rest, under the same common and general genus?-I see no foundation, said I, for making a distinction.

Perhaps, said he, there may be none; and it is possible, too, there may. Consider a little: Do you not observe in all other species, a similarity among individuals? a surprising likeness, which runs through each particular? In one species they are all bold, in another all timorous; in one all ravenous, in another all gentle. In the bird kind only, what a uniformity of voice, in each species, as to their notes; of architecture, as to building their nests; of food, both for themselves and for supporting their young. It is true, said I.-And do you observe, continued he, the same similarity among men? Are these all as uniform, as to their sentiments and actions?-I replied, by no means.

One question more, said he, as to the character of brutes, if I may be allowed the expression. Are these, think you, what we behold them, by nature or otherwise?-Explain, said I, your question, for I do not well conceive you. I mean, replied he, is it by nature that the swallow builds her nest, and performs all the offices of her kind; or is she taught by art, by discipline, or custom? She acts, replied I, by pure nature, undoubtedly.And is not the same true, said he, of every other bird and beast in the universe?-It is.-No wonder, then, continued he, as they have so wise a governess, that a uniform rule of action is provided for each species. For what can be more worthy the wisdom of nature, than ever to the same substances to give the same law? -It appears, said I, reasonable.

But what, continued he, shall we say as to man? Is he too actuated by nature purely?-I answered, why not?-If he be, replied he, it is strange in nature, that with respect to man alone she should follow so different a conduct. The particulars in other species, we agree, she renders uniform; but in our's, every particular seems a sort of model by himself.--If nature, said I, do

not actuate us, what can we suppose else?-Are local customs, said he, nature? Are the polities and religions of particular nations, nature? Are the examples which are set before us, the preceptors who instruct us, the company and friends with whom we converse, all nature?—No, surely, said I.—And yet, said he, it is evident, that by these, and a thousand incidental circumstances, equally foreign to nature, our actions, and manners, and characters are adjusted. Who then can imagine, we are actuated by nature only?-I confess, said I, it appears contrary.

You see, then, said he, one remarkable distinction between man and brutes in general. In the brute, nature does all; in man, but part only. It is evident, said I.

But further, continued he, let us consider the powers or faculties possessed by each. Suppose I was willing to give a brute the same instruction which we give a man. A parrot, perhaps, or ape, might arrive to some small degree of mimicry; but do you think, upon the whole, they would be much profited or altered?—I replied, I thought not.-And do you perceive the same, said he, with respect to man? Or does not experience shew us the very reverse? Is not education capable of moulding us into any thing, of making us greatly good or greatly bad, greatly wise or greatly absurd?—The fact, said I, is indisputable.

Mark, then, said he, the difference between human powers and brutal. The leading principle of brutes appears to tend in each species to one single purpose; to this, in general, it uniformly arrives; and here, in general, it as uniformly stops: it needs no precepts or discipline to instruct it; nor will it easily be changed, or admit a different direction. On the contrary, the leading principle of man is capable of infinite directions, is convertible to all sorts of purposes, equal to all sorts of subjects; neglected, remains ignorant, and void of every perfection; cultivated, becomes adorned with sciences and arts; can raise us to excel, not only brutes, but our own kind; with respect to our other powers and faculties, can instruct us how to use them, as well as those of the various natures which we see existing around us. In a word, to oppose the two principles to each other, the leading principle of man is multiform, originally uninstructed, pliant and docile: the leading principle of brutes is uniform, originally instructed, but, in most instances afterward, inflexible and indocile. Or does not experience plainly shew and confirm the truth of what we assert?—I made answer, it did.

You allow, then, said he, the human principle, and the brutal, to be things of different idea.-Undoubtedly.-Do they not each, then, deserve a different appellation?—I should think so.-Suppose therefore we call the human principle, reason; and the brutal, instinct: would you object to the terms?—I replied, I should not. If not, continued he, then reason being peculiar to