It is known by experience that one great poet in every age is more than nature supplies; for although certain favoured periods have had two or three, there are long intervals of time without any. Yet I believe that in the course of my reign there have not been fewer than twenty writers of verse, who, in defiance of nature, have required of me that they may be great poets; and so insatiable are they, that not one of them is content to be less a poet than Milton. My rejection of these writers is called a prejudice against living poets, which judgment is said to be entirely mistaken: for Milton was once alive. Those who plead a right to all other honours exceed equally the places to be occupied, whence you can understand how it happens that I am so generally believed to have no justice or sagacity in distributing rewards.
It is true that, through the multitude of undeserving persons who assail me, a man of real merit, if he be unknown to those who are in my confidence, is unable to gain access to my favour without patience and delay. But ability, with perseverance, is sure to succeed at last. Sometimes, however, an indignant man of genius, who has obtained my notice after many attempts, can hardly forgive me his long obscurity, and seeks revenge by satirical reflections on my sagacity. But men of genius are often too arbitrary in their expectations. He who is conscious of superior endowments, but has not yet been able to manifest them, is incensed against the world because it has made no search for him; and he thinks that all men of sense ought to have been engaged in inquiring into his capacity. Though if he would consider how patiently he himself suffers the obscurity of others, having no design of undertaking such an examination into the faculties of all unknown men, he would hardly expect this eager inquiry to be made after himself.
You attribute to me a perpetual pursuit of novelty: the changes you hear of are not caused by me, but by a mischievous politician, who has great influence in my dominions; and you will be surprised to learn that this pernicious statesman is my prime minister, but he is far too powerful to be dismissed. His name is Fashion: he is the author of innumerable projects and chimeras; and such is his authority that whatever he recommends is instantly received by my whole people. He was originally a tailor, and renowned for the beauty and reception of his inventions in that art; from which success he aspired to affairs of state, and was attended still by the same greatness. In government, in literature, in morals, he is now supreme; and, indeed, I believe there is nothing exempt from his corruptions except mathematics.
Though he is remarkable for inconstancy, and for perpetually revoking what he has just introduced, yet he always persuades my people that the present scheme or custom will last for ever, and every fancy that he promulgates is embraced as a wise and durable invention. By some singular art he can make my subjects esteem or despise whatever he pleases. In all his plots he makes use of my name, and seems to enforce nothing by his own authority; indeed his skill consists in not passing for the author of his own inventions. So far am I from being able to dismiss him, that his aid is absolutely necessary to the accomplishment of all my undertakings. I depend upon him for my popularity; and whenever I design a new law, my first step is to obtain his concurrence. At my death you will find your dominions in the power of this person; and will soon have such experience of his art as to despair of discarding him from your service; for notwithstanding his great age I do not conceive it possible that I should survive him.
I disclaim the folly you impute to me of pretending to be the author of every useful thing that will descend to you; and I shall now say in a few words how far I think myself capable of really improving what was left me by my predecessor. The most honourable of my employments is to observe and encourage the studies of a few of my subjects, who with an ardent patience are searching into the laws of matter, and unfolding the universe by gradual discovery. From these labours you will obtain an enlargement, both of arts and contemplation.
The true method of discovery, from facts and not from imagination, had been pursued before I came to the throne, and it has been vigorously prosecuted under my reign and countenance. The results from it in art and knowledge will be far the most valuable gifts that you will receive from me.
Experiment, having wonderfully divulged the ways of nature, was applied to other studies—to the laws of the human understanding, and to political speculations; and wherever it has come there has been new light and certainty. I conclude that my chief glory must be from giving it encouragement and progress; and its discoveries in any kind of learning I shall transmit to you with full confidence of their utility.
It is true that from this sort of philosophy in politics I do not expect that general peace and wisdom through my dominions which some people foretell, though still I promote the study, and acknowledge the truths from it. But some of my subjects imagine, that by their researches of this kind all public factions, violences, and disasters, will speedily cease. They think they are effecting this tranquillity, by observing more accurately than before the rules according to which wealth is distributed and society conducted, and also by explaining those rules to all mankind. Through their instructions every man is to renounce his present emulation with those above him, and his hope of improving his own condition by disturbance. The people are no longer to strive through party spirit for things not really beneficial to them; politicians are not to make parties for themselves by inventing fallacious disputes for the people. In the room of these troubles, in which the world has hitherto been employed, all men are to occupy and delight themselves in viewing the peaceful operation of these newly discovered rules. Such is to be the prosperity from modern calculation; but I confess I have little confidence in the judgment of those who are convinced that the world is just going to be wise. I enter into no engagement, therefore, to leave you my dominions in any such tranquillity; and, instead of that, I can promise only one thing,—to make your government wiser; which is, that for your instruction my reign shall contribute its just share of follies to those already known, and preserved under the name of history. I am sure your efforts will not be wanting to increase the collection.
Through the progress of experiment, therefore, every age must now excel that which preceded it, in all such knowledge as experiment can discover. In that only I pretend to surpass my predecessor; but from my undoubted superiority in such knowledge some of my subjects would assert a pre-eminence in all other particulars. These persons seem to imagine, that because they live in an age of experiment every fancy that enters into their thoughts must infallibly be true, and they arrogate great sagacity to themselves on account of discoveries made by others while they are alive. These are the statesmen who urgently desire that every thing should be destroyed, and made again on a different plan.
But having said thus much against the lovers of novelty, I must observe, that I equally disapprove of another sect, who see ruin in every alteration. You are to understand that, for some time past, my kingdom has been divided by a great dispute concerning the efficacy of change. One side maintain that there can be no peace, commerce, or fertility, under a government which is the same for six months together, and they recommend change to the people as something that they can feed upon; while their adversaries contend that the only virtue and benefit of a law consists in its never being altered, and they exclaim against the cruelty of those who would deprive the people of any inconvenience that their ancestors submitted to. These two parties are equally excluded from my favour.