allowed them to desire, or that which it teacheth them contentedly to suffer, they are, in neither event, unfortunate."

Nor will a truly pious prince ever be eventually defeated in his designs: he may not indeed be successful in every negotiation, he may not be victorious in every battle; yet in his leading purpose he will never be disappointed. For his ultimate end was to act conscientiously, to procure the favour of God, to advance the best interests of his people, and to secure his own eternal happiness. Whatever the event may be to others, to himself it must be finally good. The effect of righteousness is peace. Mark the perfect man, and behold the upright, for the end of that man is peace." And, to conclude in the words of the able and profound Barrow: "If God shall not cease to be; if he will not let go the reins; if his word cannot deceive; if the wisest men are not infatuated; if the common sense of mankind is not extravagant; if the main props of life, if the great pillars of society, do not fail;-he that walketh uprightly, doth proceed on grounds."

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CHAPTER XX

On the true arts of popularity.

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CICERO says, "that it is the property of justice not to injure men, and of politeness not to offend them." True Christianity not only unites, but fects both these qualities; and renders them, thus associated and exalted, powerful instruments, especially in princes, for the acquisition of popularity.

The desire of praise and reputation is commonly the first motive of action in second-rate, and a

secondary motive in first-rate characters. That, in the former case, men who are not governed by a higher principle, are often so keenly alive to human opinion, as to be restrained by it from such vices as would disturb the peace of society, is an instance of the useful provision made, by the great Governor of all things, for the good order of the world.

But in princes, none of whose actions are indifferent, who are "the observed of all observers," reputation cannot be too highly prized. A negligence respecting public opinion, or a contempt for the judgment of posterity, would be inexcusable in those, whose conduct must, in no inconsiderable degree, give, in their own time, the law to manners, and whose example will hereafter be adduced by future historians, either to illustrate virtue, or to exemplify vice, and to stimulate to good or evil, monarchs yet unborn.

"A prince," however, as a late eloquent statesman* observed in his own case, "should love that fame which follows, not that which is pursued." He should bear in mind, that shadows owe their being to substances; that true fame derives its existence from something more solid than itself; that reputation is not the precursor, nor the cause, but the fruit and effect of merit.

But though, in superficial characters, the hunger of popularity is the mainspring of action; and though the vain-glorious too often obtain, what they so sedulously seek, the acclamations of the vulgar; yet a temperate desire to be loved and esteemed is so far from being a proof of vanity, that it even indicates the contrary propensity for reasonably to wish for the good opinion of others, evinces that a man does not overvalue and sit down contented with his own. It is an over estimation of himself, an undue complacency in his own merit,

The first earl of Mansfield.

which is one of the causes of his disdain of public opinion. In profligate characters, another cause is, that, anticipating the contempt which they must be aware they have deserved, they are willing to be beforehand with the world in proclaiming their disdain of that reputation, which they know that their course of life has made unattainable.

Pagan philosophy, indeed, overrated "the honour which cometh from man.' But even the sacred scripture, which, as it is the only true fountain, is also the only just standard, of all excellence, does not teach us to despise, but only not to set an undue value upon it. It teaches us to estimate this honour in its due order and just measure; and, above all, it exhorts us to see that it be sought on right grounds; to take care that it tempt not to vanity, by exciting to trifling pursuits; nor to vice, by stimulating to such as are base; nor to false honour, by seeking it in the paths of ambition. A prince must not be inordinate in the desire, nor irregular in the pursuit, nor immoderate in the enjoyment, nor criminally solicitous for the preservation of fame; but he must win it fairly, and wear it temperately. He should pursue it not as the ultimate end of life, but as an object which, by making life honourable, makes it useful. It must not, however, be omitted, that the scriptures exhort, that when reputation can only be attained or preserved by the sacrifice of duty, it must then be renounced; that we must submit to the loss even of this precious jewel, rather than, by retaining it, wound the conscience, or offend God. Happily, however, in a country in which religion and laws are established on so firm a basis, a prince is little likely to be called to such an absolute renunciation, though he may be called to many trials.

But all these dangers being provided for, and all abuses guarded against, the word of God does not

scruple to pronounce reputation to be a valuable possession. In a competition with "riches," the pre-eminence is assigned to a "good name;" and "wisdom," that is, religion, in the bold language of Eastern imagery, is described as bearing "honour" in her left hand. Nor has the sacred volume been altogether silent, respecting even that posthumous renown which good princes may expect in history. That "the memory of the just shall be blessed," was the promise of one who was himself both an author and a monarch. And that the " righteous shall be had in everlasting remembrance," was the declaration of another royal author.*

A desire of popularity is still more honest in princes than in other men. And when the end for which it is sought, and the means by which it is pursued, are strictly just, the desire is not only blameless, but highly laudable. Nor is it ever censurable, except where the affection of the people is sought, by plausible means, for pernicious purposes. On the part of the people, attachment is a natural feeling, which nothing but persevering misconduct in their rulers can ever wear out. A prince should

learn not to listen to those flatterers who would keep him ignorant of the public opinion. The discontents of the people should not be stifled before they reach the royal ear; nor should their affection be represented as a fund which can never be drained. It is a rich and precious stock, which should not be too often drawn upon. Imprudence will diminish, oppression will exhaust it. A prince should never measure his rights over a people by the greatness of their attachment; the warmth of their zeal being a call for his kindness, not a signal for his exactions. Improvident rigour would wear

* See an admirable sermon of Dr. Barrow, on the reward of honouring God.

out that affection, which justice would increase, and consideration confirm.

Britons, in general, possess that obsequium erga reges, which Tacitus ascribes to the Swedes. While they passionately love liberty, they also patiently bear those reasonable burdens which are necessary in order to preserve it. But this character of our countrymen seems not to have been so well understood, at least not so fairly represented, by one of their own sovereigns, as by a foreigner and an enemy. The unfortunate James calls them " a fickle, giddy, and rebellious people." If the charge were true, he and his family rather made than found them such. Agricola had pronounced them to be a people who cheerfully complied with the levies of men and the imposition of taxes, and with all the duties enjoined by government, provided they met with just and lawful treatment from their governors." "Nor have the Romans," continues he, any farther conquered them, than only to form them to obedience. They never will submit to be slaves." It is pleasant to behold the freest of nations, even now, acting up to the character given them by the first of historians, on such unquestionable authority as that of their illustrious invader, near two thousand years ago.

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Even the fatal catastrophe of Charles I. was not a national act, but the act of a fanatical party. The kingdom at large beheld the deed with deep abhorrence, and deplored it with unfeigned sorrow. The fascinating manners of his son and successor so won the hearts of every one who approached him, that it required all his vices to alienate them. If that gracious outward deportment was of so much use to him, in veiling, for a time, the most corrupt designs, how essentially must it serve a prince who meditates only such as are beneficial! William

Tacitus's Life of Agricola.