SKETCH VII.
Progreſs of MANNERS.

THERE are peculiarities in the appearance, in the expreſſions, in the actions, of ſome perſons, which, in oppoſition to the manners of the generality, are termed their manners. Such peculiarities in the bulk of a nation, by which it differs from other nations, or from itſelf at different periods, are termed the manners of that nation. Manners therefore ſignify a mode of behaviour pe⯑culiar to a certain perſon, or to a certain nation. The term is not applied to mankind in general; except perhaps in contradiſtinction to other beings.

Manners are diſtinguiſhed from morals; but in what reſpect has not been clearly explained. Do not the ſame actions relate to both? Certainly; but in different reſpects: an action conſidered as right or wrong, belongs to morals; conſidered as [2] characteriſtical of a perſon, or of a people, it be⯑longs to manners.

Manners, peculiar to certain tribes and to certain governments, fall under other branches of this work. The intention of the preſent ſketch is, to trace out the manners of nations, in the different ſtages of their progreſs, from infancy to maturity. I am far from regretting, that manners, produced by climate, by ſoil, and by other permanent cauſes, fall not under my plan: I ſhould indeed make but a poor figure upon a ſubject that has been learnedly diſcuſ⯑ſed by the greateſt genius of the preſent age^a.

I begin with external appearance, being the firſt thing that draws attention. The human counte⯑nance hath a greater variety of expreſſions than that of any other animal; and ſome perſons differ wide⯑ly from the generality in theſe expreſſions. The ſame variety is obſervable in human geſtures; and the ſame peculiarity in particular perſons, ſo as to be known by their manner of walking, or even by ſo ſlight an action as that of putting on or taking off a hat; ſome men are known even by the ſound of their feet. Whole nations are diſtinguiſhable by the ſame peculiarities. And yet there is leſs va⯑riety in looks and geſtures, than the different tones of mind would produce, were men left to the im⯑pulſes of pure nature: man, an imitative animal, is prone to copy others; and by imitation, external behaviour is nearly uniform among thoſe who ſtudy to be agreeable; witneſs people of faſhion in France. I am acquainted with a blind man, who, without moving his feet, is conſtantly balancing from ſide to ſide, excited probably by ſome internal impulſe. Had he been endowed with eye-ſight, he would have imitated the manners of others. I reſt upon theſe outlines: to enter fully into the [3] ſubject would be an endleſs work; diſproportioned at any rate to the narrowneſs of my plan.

Dreſs muſt not be omitted, becauſe it enters into external appearance. Providence hath clothed all animals that are unable to clothe themſelves. Man can clothe himſelf; and he is endowed beſide with an appetite for dreſs, no leſs natural than an appe⯑tite for food. That appetite is proportioned in de⯑gree to its uſe: in cold climates it is vigorous; in hot climates, extremely faint. Savages muſt go naked till they learn to cover themſelves; and they ſoon learn where covering is neceſſary. The Pata⯑gonians, who go naked in a bitter-cold climate, muſt be woefully ſtupid. And the Picts, a Scotch tribe, who, it is ſaid, continued naked down to the time of Severus, did not probably much ſurpaſs the Patagonians in the talent of invention.

Modeſty is another cauſe for clothing: few ſa⯑vages expoſe the whole of the body without cover⯑ing. It gives no high idea of Grecian modeſty, that at the Olympic games people wreſtled and run races ſtark naked.

There is a third cauſe for clothing, which is, the pleaſure it affords. A fine woman, ſeen naked once in her life, is a deſirable object; deſire being inflamed by novelty. But let her go naked for a month; how much more charming will ſhe appear, when dreſſed with propriety and elegance! Cloath⯑ing is ſo eſſential to health, that to be leſs agreeable than nakedneſs would argue an incongruity in our nature. Savages probably at firſt thought of cloath⯑ing as a protection only againſt the weather; but they ſoon diſcovered a beauty in dreſs: men led the way, and women followed. Such ſavages as go naked, paint their bodies, excited by the ſame fondneſs for ornament, that our women ſhew in their party-coloured garments. Among the Jews, [4] the men wore ear-rings as well as the women^b. When Media was governed by its own kings, the men were ſumptuous in dreſs: they wore looſe robes, floating in the air; had long hair covered with a rich bonnet, bracelets, chains of gold, and precious ſtones: they painted their faces, and mix⯑ed artificial hair with that of nature. As authors are ſilent about the women, they probably made no figure in that kingdom, being ſhut up, as at preſent, in ſeraglios. Very different was the caſe of Athenian ladies, after polygamy was baniſhed from Greece. They conſumed the whole morning at the toilette; employing paint, and every drug for cleaning and whitening the ſkin: they laid red even upon their lips, and took great care of their teeth: their hair, made up in buckles with a hot iron, was perſumed and ſpread upon the ſhoulders: their dreſs was elegant, and artfully contrived to ſet off a fine ſhape. Such is the influence of appetite for dreſs: vanity could not be the ſole motive, as Athenian ladies were never ſeen in public. We learn from St. Gregory, that women in his time dreſſed their heads extremely high; environing them with many treſſes of falſe hair, diſpoſed in knots and buckles, ſo as to reſemble a regular forti⯑fication. Joſephus reports, that the Jewiſh ladies powdered their hair with gold duſt; a faſhion that was carried from Aſia to Rome. The firſt writer who mentions white powder for the hair, the ſame we uſe at preſent, is L'Etoile, in his journal for the year 159 [...]. He relates, that nuns walked the ſtreets of Paris curled and powdered. That faſhion ſpread by degrees through Europe. For many years after the civil wars in France, it was the faſhion in Paris to wear boots and ſpurs with a long ſword; a gentleman was not in full dreſs without [5] theſe accoutrements. The ſword continues an ar⯑ticle of dreſs, tho' it diſtinguiſhes not a gentleman from his valet. To ſhow that a taſte for dreſs and ornament is deeply rooted in human nature, ſavages diſplay that taſte upon the body, having no cover⯑ing to diſplay it upon. Seldom is a child left to nature: it is deprived of a teſticle, a finger, a tooth; or its ſkin is engraved with figures.

Cloathing hath no ſlight influence, even with reſpect to morals. I venture to affirm, at the ha⯑zard of being thought paradoxical, that nakedneſs is more friendly to chaſtity than covering. Adultery is unknown among ſavages, even in hot climates where they have ſcarce any covering. A woman dreſſed with taſte is a more deſirable object than one who always goes naked. Dreſs, beſide, gives play to the imagination, which pictures to itſelf many ſecret beauties, that vaniſh when rendered familiar by ſight: if a lady accidentally diſcovers half a leg, imagination is inſtantly inflamed, tho' an actreſs appearing in breeches is beheld with in⯑difference: a naked Venus makes not ſuch an im⯑preſſion, as when a garter only is diſcovered. In Sparta, men and women lived together without any reſerve: public baths were common to both; and in certain games they danced and combated toge⯑ther naked as when born. In a later period, the Spartan dames were much corrupted; occaſioned, as authors ſay, by a ſhameful freedom of intercourſe between the ſexes. But remark, that corruption was not confined to the female ſex, men having degenerated as much from their original manhood as women from their original chaſtity; and I have no difficulty to maintain, that gold and ſilver, ad⯑mitted contrary to the laws of Lycurgus, were what corrupted both ſexes. Opulence could not fail to have the ſame effect there that it has every where; which is to excite luxury and ſenſuality. [6] The Spartans accordingly, ſhaking off auſterity of manners, abandoned themſelves to pleaſure: the moſt expenſive furniture, the ſofteſt beds, ſuperb tapeſtry, precious vaſes, exquiſite wines, delicious [...]ands, were not now too delicate for an effeminate Spartan, once illuſtrious for every manly virtue. Lycurgus underſtood human nature better than the writers do who carp at him. It was his intention, to make his countrymen ſoldiers, not whining lovers: and he juſtly thought, that familiar inter⯑courſe between the ſexes would confine their appe⯑tites within the bounds of nature; an uſeful leſſon to women of faſhion in our days, who expoſe their nakedneſs in order to attract and enſlame lovers. What juſtifies this reaſoning is, the aſcendant that Spartan dames had over their huſbands while the laws of Lycurgus were in vigour: they in effect ruled the ſtate as well as their own families. Such aſcendant cannot be obtained nor preſerved but by ſtrict virtue: a woman of looſe manners may be the object of looſe deſire; but ſeldom will ſhe gain an aſcendant over any man, and never over her huſband. Among no people was there more free⯑dom of intercourſe than among the ancient Ger⯑mans: males and females ſlept promiſcuouſly round the walls of their houſes; and yet we never read of an attempt upon a married woman. The ſame holds true of the Scotch highlanders.

Cleanlineſs is an article in external appearance. Whether it be inherent in the nature of man, or only a refinement of poliſhed nations, may at firſt ſight appear doubtful. What pleads for the former is, that cleanlineſs is remarkable in ſeveral nations that have made little progreſs in the arts of life. The ſavages of the Caribbee iſlands, once a nume⯑rous tribe, were remarked by writers as neat and cleanly. In the iſland Otaheite, or King George's Iſland, both ſexes are cleanly: they bathe fre⯑quently, [7] never eat nor drink without waſhing be⯑fore and after, and their garments as well as their perſons are kept free of ſpot or blemiſh. Ammi⯑anus Marcellinus, deſcribing the Gauls, ſays, that they were cleanly; and that even the pooreſt wo⯑men were never ſeen with dirty garments. The negroes, particularly thoſe of Ardrah in the ſlave⯑coaſt, have a ſcrupulous regard to cleanlineſs. They waſh morning and evening, and perſume themſelves with aromatic herbs. In the city of Benin, in Guinea, women are employ'd to keep the ſtreets clean; and in that reſpect they are not outdone by the Dutch. In Corea, people mourn three years for the death of their parents; during which time they never waſh. Dirtineſs muſt ap⯑pear diſmal to that people, as to us^*. But in⯑ſtances are no leſs numerous that favour the other ſide of the queſtion. Amminianus Marcellinus re⯑ports of the Huns, that they wore the ſame coat till it fell to pieces with dirt and rottenneſs. Plan Carpin, who viſited the Tartars anno 1246, ſays, ‘"That they never waſh face nor hands; that they never clean a diſh, a pot, nor a garment; that, like ſwine, they made food of every thing, not excepting the vermin that crawl on them."’ The preſent people of Kamſkatka anſwer to that deſcrip⯑tion in every article. The naſlineſs of North American ſavages, in their food, in their cabins, and in their garments, paſſes all conception. As they never change their garments till they fall to rags, nor ever think of waſhing them, they are eat up with vermin. The Eſquimaux, and many other tribes, are equally naſty.

[8] As cleanneſs requires attention and induſtry, the cleanlineſs of ſome ſavages muſt be the work of nature and the dirtineſs of others muſt proceed from indolence counteracting nature. In fact, cleanlineſs is agreeable to all; and naſtineſs diſa⯑greeable: no perſon prefers dirt; and even thoſe who are the moſt accuſtomed to it, are pleaſed with a cleanly appearance in others. It is true, that a taſte for cleanneſs, like that for order, for ſymmetry, for congruity, is extremely faint during its infancy among ſavages. Its ſtrongeſt antagoniſt is indolence, which ſavages indulge to exceſs: the great fatigue they undergo in hunting makes them [...]nd of eaſe at home; and dirtineſs, when once habitual, is not eaſily conquered. But cleanlineſs improves gradually with manners, and makes a figure in every induſtrious nation. Nor is a taſte for cleanneſs bellow'd on man in vain: its final cauſe is conſpicuous, cleanneſs being extremely wholeſome, and naſtineſs no leſs unwholeſome^*.

[9] Thus it appears, that a taſte for cleanneſs is in⯑herent in our nature. I ſay more: cleanlineſs is evidently a branch of propriety, and conſequently a ſelf-duty. The performance is rewarded with approbation; and the neglect is puniſhed with contempt^c.

A taſte for cleanneſs is not equally diſtributed among all men; nor indeed is any branch of the moral ſenſe equally diſtributed: and if by nature one perſon be more cleanly than another, a whole nation may be ſo. I judge that to be the caſe of the Japaneſe, ſo finically clean as to find ſault even with the Dutch for dirtineſs. Their inns are not an exception, nor their little houſes, in which wa⯑ter is always at hand for waſhing after the opera⯑tion. I judged it to be alſo the caſe of the Engliſh, who, high and low, rich and poor, are remarkable for cleanlineſs all the world over; and I have often amuſed myſelf with ſo ſingular a reſemblance be⯑tween iſlanders, removed at the greateſt diſtance from each other. But I was forc'd to abandon the reſemblance, upon a diſcovery that the Engliſh have not always been ſo cleanly as at preſent. Many centuries ago, as recorded in monkiſh hiſ⯑tory, one cauſe of the averſion the Engliſh had to the Danes, was their cleanlineſs: they combed their hair, and put on a clean ſhirt once a-week. And the celebrated Eraſmus, who viſited England in the reign of Henry VIII. complains of the naſti⯑neſs and ſlovenly habits of its people; aſcribing to that cauſe the frequent plagues which at that time [10] infeſted them. ‘"Their floors,"’ ſays he, ‘"are commonly of clay ſtrewed with ruſhes, under which lies unmoleſted a collection of beer, greaſe, fragments, bones, ſpittle, excrements of dogs and cats, and of every thing that is nauſcous^d."’ A change ſo extraordinary in the taſte and manners of the Engliſh, rouſes our cu⯑rioſity; and I ſlatter myſelf that the following cauſe will be ſatisfactory. A ſavage, remarkably indolent at home, tho' not inſenſible of his dirtineſs, cannot rouſe up activity ſufficient to attempt a ſerious pur⯑gation; and would be at a loſs where to begin. The induſtrious, on the contrary, are improved in neatneſs and propriety by the art or manufacture that conſtantly employs them: they are never re⯑duced to purge the ſtable of Augeas; for being prone to action, they ſuffer not dirt to reſt unmo⯑leſted. Induſtrious nations accordingly, all the world over, are the moſt cleanly. Arts and induſ⯑try had long flouriſhed in Holland, where Eraſmus was born and educated: the people were clean above all their neighbours, becauſe they were in⯑duſtrious above all their neighbours; and upon that account the dirtineſs of England could not fail to ſtrike a Hollander. At the period mentioned, in⯑duſtry was as great a ſtranger to England as clean⯑lineſs: from which conſideration, may it not fairly be inferred, that the Engliſh are indebted for their cleanlineſs to the great progreſs of induſtry among them in later times? If this inference holds, it places induſtry in an amiable light. The Spaniards, who are indolent to a degree, are to this day as dirty as the Engliſh were formerly. Madrid, their capital, is nauſeouſly naſty: heaps of unmoleſted dirt in every ſtreet raiſe in that warm climate a peſtiferous [11] ſteam, which threatens to knock down every ſtran⯑ger. A purgation was lately ſet on foot by royal authority. But people habituated to dirt are not eaſily reclaimed: to promote induſtry is the only effectual remedy^*. The naſtineſs of the ſtreets of Liſbon before the late earthquake was intolerable; and ſo is at preſent the naſtineſs of the ſtreets of Cadiz.

Tho' induſtry be the chief promoter of cleanli⯑neſs, yet it is ſeldom left to operate alone: other cauſes mix, ſome to accelerate the progreſs, ſome to retard it. The moiſture of the Dutch climate has a conſiderable influence in promoting cleanli⯑neſs; and joined with induſtry produces a ſurpriſing neatneſs and cleanlineſs among people of buſineſs: men of figure and faſhion, who generally reſort to the Hague, the ſeat of government, are not ſo cleanly. On the other hand, the French are leſs cleanly than the Engliſh, tho' not leſs induſtrious. But the lower claſſes of people, being in England more at their eaſe than in France, have a greater taſte for living well, and in particular for keeping themſelves clean.

[12] A beard gives to the countenance a rough and fierce air, ſuited to the manners of a rough and fierce people. The ſame face without a beard appears milder; for which reaſon, a beard becomes unfaſhionable in a poliſhed nation. Demoſthenes the orator lived in the ſame period with Alexander the Great, at which time the Greeks begun to leave off beards A buſt however of that orator, found in Herculaneum, has a beard; which muſt either have been done for him when he was young, or from reluctance in an old man to a new faſhion. Barbers were brought to Rome from Sicily in the 454th year after the building of Rome. And it muſt relate to the time following that period, what Aulus Gellius ſays^e, that people accuſed of any crime were prohibited to ſhave their beards till they were abſolved. From Hadrian, downward, the Roman Emperors wore beards. Julius Capitolinus reproaches the Emperor Verus for cutting his beard, at the inſtigation of a concubine. All the Roman generals wore beards in Juſtinian's time^f. When the Pope ſhaved his beard, it was reckoned a ma⯑nifeſt apoſtaſy by the Greek church; becauſe Moſes and Jeſus Chriſt were always drawn with beards by the Greek and Latin painters. Upon the dawn of ſmooth manners in France, the beaus cut their beards into ſhapes, and curled their whiſ⯑kers. That faſhion produced a whimſical effect, viz. that men of gravity left off beards altogether: a beard in its natural ſhape was too fierce, even for them; and they could not for ſhame copy after the beaus.

Language, when brought to any perfection among a poliſhed people, may juſtly be conſidered as one of the fine arts; and in that view is handled [13] above. But it belongs to the preſent ſketch, con⯑ſidered as a branch of external behaviour. Every part of external behaviour is influenced by temper and diſpoſition, and language more than any other part. In Elements of Criticiſm^g it is obſerved, that an emotion in many inſtances bears a reſem⯑blance to its cauſe. The like holds univerſally in all the natural ſounds prompted by paſſion. Let a paſſion be bold, rough, chearful, tender, or hum⯑ble, ſtill it holds, that the natural ſound prompted by it is in the ſame tone: and hence the reaſon why theſe natural ſounds are the ſame in all lan⯑guages. Some ſlight reſemblance of the ſame kind is diſcoverable in many artificial ſounds. The language of a ſavage is harſh; of polite people, ſmooth; and of women, ſoft and muſical. The tongues of ſavage nations abound in gutturals, or in naſals; yet one would imagine that ſuch words, pronounced with difficulty, would be avoided by ſavages, as they are by children. But temper pre⯑vails, and ſuggeſts to ſavages harſh ſounds, confor⯑formable to their roughneſs and cruelty. The Eſquimaux have a language compoſed of the harſh⯑eſt gutturals; and the tongues of the northern Eu⯑ropean nations are not remarkably more ſmooth. The Scotch peaſants are a frank and plain people; and their dialect is in the tone of their character. The Huron tongue hath ſtatelineſs and energy above moſt known languages; and the Hurons ſtill retain a certain elevation of mind, which is more conformable to the majeſty of their diſcourſe, than to their preſent low condition. Thus the manners of a people may in ſome meaſure be gathered from their language. Nay, manners may frequently be gathered from ſingle words. The Hebrew word LECHOM ſignifies both food and fighting; and [14] TEREPH ſignifies both food and plunder. KARAB ſignifies to draw near to one, and ſignifies alſo to fight. The Greek word LEIA, which ſignified originally, ſpoil procured by war or piracy, came to ſignify wealth. And the great variety of Greek words ſignifying good and better, ſignified originally ſtrong and violent.

Government, according to its different kinds, hath conſiderable influence in forming the tone of a language. Language in a democracy is commonly rough and coarſe; in a republic, manly and plain; in a monarchy, courteous and inſinuating; in deſ⯑potiſm, imperious with reſpect to inferiors, and humble with reſpect to ſuperiors. The govern⯑ment of the Greek empire is well repreſented in Juſtinian's edicts, termed Novellae Conſtitutiones, the ſtyle of which is ſtiff, formal, and affectedly ſtately; but deſtitute of order, of force, and of ligament. About three centuries ago, Tuſcany was filled with ſmall republics, who ſpoke a dialect manly and plain. Its rough tones were purged off when united under the Great Duke of Tuſcany; by which means the Tuſcan dialect has arrived nearer to perfection than any other in Italy. The tone of the French language is well ſuited to the nature of its government: every man is politely ſubmiſſive to thoſe above him; and this tone forms the character of the language in general, ſo as even to regulate the tone of the few who have occaſion to ſpeak with authority. The freedom of the Eng⯑liſh government forms the manners of the people: the Engliſh language is accordingly more manly and nervous than the French, and abounds more with rough ſounds. The Lacedemonians of old, ap roud and auſtere people, affected to talk with brevity, in the tone of command more than of advice; and hence the Laconic ſtyle, dry but maſ⯑culine. The Attic ſtyle is more difficult to be [15] accounted for: it was ſweet and copious; and had a remarkable delicacy above the ſtyle of any other nation. And yet the democracy of Athens produ⯑ced rough manners; witneſs the comedies of Ariſ⯑tophanes, and the orations of Eſchines and De⯑moſthenes. We are not ſo well acquainted with the Athenians as to account for the difference between their language and their manners: and are equally at a loſs about the Ruſſian tongue, which, not⯑withſtanding the barbarity of the people, is ſmooth and ſonorous. All that can be ſaid is, that the operation of a general cauſe may be diſturbed by particular circumſtances. Languages reſemble the tides: the influence of the moon, which is the general cauſe of tides, is in ſeveral inſtances over⯑balanced by particular cauſes acting in oppoſition.

There may be obſerved in ſome ſavage tribes, a certain refinement of language that might do honour to a poliſhed people. The Canadians never give a man his proper name, in ſpeaking to him. If he be a relation, he is addreſſed to in that quality: if a ſtranger, the ſpeaker gives him ſome appellation that marks affection; ſuch as, brother, couſin, friend.

From ſpeech we advance to action. Man is na⯑turally prone to motion; witneſs children, who are never at reſt but when aſleep. Where reaſon go⯑verns, a man reſtrains that reſtleſs diſpoſition, and never acts without a motive. Savages have few motives to action when the belly is full: their huts require little induſtry; and their covering of ſkins, ſtill leſs. Hunting and fiſhing employ all their ac⯑tivity. After much fatigue in hunting, reſt is ſweet; which the ſavage prolongs, having no motive to action till the time of hunting returns. Savages ac⯑cordingly, like dogs, are extremely active in the [16] field, and extremely indolent at home^*. The ſavages of the torrid zone are indolent above all others: they go naked; their huts coſt them no trouble; and they never hunt except for vegetables, which are their only food. The Spaniards who firſt landed in Hiſpaniola, were ſurpriſed at the manners of the inhabitants. They are deſcribed as lazy, and without ambition; paſſing part of their time in eat⯑ing and dancing, and the reſt in ſleep; having no great ſhare of memory, and ſtill leſs of underſtand⯑ing. The character given of theſe ſavages belongs to all, eſpecially to ſavages in hot climates. The imperfection of their memory and judgement is oc⯑caſioned by want of employment. The ſame imperfection was remarkable in the people of Paraguay, when under Jeſuit government; of which afterward^h.

In early times, people lived in a very ſimple man⯑ner, ignorant of ſuch habitual wants as are com⯑monly [17] termed luxury. Rebecca, Rachel, and the daughters of Jethro, tended their fathers flocks: they were really ſhepherdeſſes. Young women of faſhion drew water from the well with their own hands. The joiner who made the bridal bed of Ulyſſes, was Ulyſſes himſelfⁱ. The Princeſs Nauſicaa waſhes the family-cloaths; and the Princes her brothers, upon her return, unyoke the car, and carry in the cloaths^k. Queens, and even female deities, are employed in ſpinning^l. Is it from this faſhion that young women in England are de⯑nominated ſpinſters? Telemachus goes to council with no attendants but two dogs:

Priam's car is yoked by his own ſons, when he went to redeem from Achilles the body of his ſon Hector. Telemachus yokes his own car^m. Ho⯑mer's heroes kill and dreſs their own victualsⁿ. Achilles entertaining Priam, as now mentioned, ſlew a ſnow-white ſheep; and his two friends flead and dreſſed it. Achilles himſelf divided the roaſted meat among all^*.

[18] Not to talk of gold, ſilver was ſcarce in England during the reign of the third Edward. Rents were paid in kind; and what money they had was locked up in the coffers of the great barons. Pieces of plate were bequeathed even by kings of England, ſo trifling in our eſtimation, that a gentleman of a moderate fortune would be aſhamed to mention ſuch in his will.

We next take under conſideration the progreſs of ſuch manners as are more peculiarly influenced by internal diſpoſition; preparing the reader by a general view, before entering into particulars. Man is by nature a timid animal, having little ability to ſecure himſelf againſt harm: but he becomes bold in ſociety, and gives vent to paſſion againſt his ene⯑mies. In the hunter-ſtate, the daily practice of ſlaughtering innocent animals for food, hardens men in cruelty: they are worſe than bears or wolves, being cruel even to their own kind. The calm and ſedentary life of a ſhepherd tends to ſoften the harſh manners of hunters; and agriculture, requiring the union of many hands in one operation, inſpires a taſte for mutual good offices. But here comes in the hoarding appetite to diſturb that auſpicious commencement of civilization. Skilful huſbandry, producing the neceſſaries of life in plenty, paves the way to arts and manufactures. Fine houſes, ſplen⯑did gardens, and rich apparel, are deſirable objects: the appetite for property becomes headſtrong, and to obtain gratification tramples down every obſtacle of juſtice or honour^o. Differences ariſe, foment⯑ing diſcord and reſentment: war is raiſed, even among thoſe of the ſame tribe; and while it was [19] lawful for a man to take revenge at his own hand^p, that fierce paſſion ſwallowed up all others. Inequality of rank and fortune foſtered diſſocial paſ⯑ſions: witneſs pride in particular, which produced a cuſtom, once univerſal among barbarians, of kil⯑ling men, women, dogs, and horſes, for ſerving a dead chieftain in the other world. Such complica⯑tion of ſelfiſh and ſtormy paſſions, tending eagerly to gratification, and rendering ſociety uncomforta⯑ble, cannot be ſtemmed by any human means other than wholeſome laws: a momentary obſtacle in⯑flames deſire; but perpetual reſtraint deadens even the moſt fervid paſſion. The authority of good government gave vigour to kindly affections; and appetite for ſociety, which acts inceſſantly, though not violently, gave a currency to mutual good offices. A circumſtance concurred to blunt the edge of diſſocial paſſions: the firſt ſocieties were ſmall; and ſmall ſtates in cloſe neighbourhood pro⯑duce diſcord and reſentment without end: the junc⯑tion of many ſuch ſtates into a great kingdom, re⯑move people farther from their enemies, and render them more gentle^q. In that ſituation, men have leiſure and ſedateneſs to reliſh the comforts of ſocial life: they find that ſelfiſh and turbulent paſſions are ſubverſive of ſociety; and through fondneſs for ſociety, they patiently undergo the ſevere diſcipline of reſtraining paſſion, and ſmoothing manners. Violent paſſions that diſturb the peace of ſociety have ſubſided, and are now ſeldom heard of: hu⯑manity is in faſhion, and ſocial affections prevail. Men improve in urbanity by converſing with wo⯑men; and however ſelfiſh at heart, they conciliate favour, by aſſuming an air of diſintereſtedneſs. Selfiſhneſs thus refined becomes an effectual cauſe [20] of civilization. But what follows? Turbulent and violent paſſions are buried, never again to revive; leaving the mind totally ingroſſed by ſelf-intereſt. In the original ſtate of hunters and fiſhers, there being little connection among individuals, every min minds his own concerns, and ſelfiſhneſs governs. The diſcovery that hunting and fiſhing are beſt car⯑ried on in company, promotes ſome degree of ſociety in that ſtate: it gains ground in the ſhepherd-ſtate, and makes a capital figure where huſbandry and commerce flouriſh. Private concord is promoted by ſocial affection; and a nation is proſperous in proportion as the amor patriae prevails. But wealth, acquired whether by conqueſt or commerce, is pro⯑ductive of luxury and ſenſuality. As theſe increaſe, ſocial affections decline, and at laſt vaniſh. This is viſible in every opulent city that has long flouriſh⯑ed in extenſive commerce. Selfiſhneſs becomes the ruling paſſion: friendſhip is no more; and even blood-relation is little regarded. Every man ſtudies his own intereſt; and love of gain and of ſenſual pleaſure are idols worſhipped by all. And thus in the progreſs of manners, men end as they begun: ſelfiſhneſs is no leſs eminent in the laſt and moſt po⯑liſhed ſtate of ſociety, than in the firſt and moſt ſavage ſtate.

From a general view of the progreſs of manners, we deſcend to particulars. And the firſt ſcene that preſents itſelf is, cruelty to ſtrangers, extended in proceſs of time againſt members of the ſame tribe. Anger and reſentment are predominant in ſavages, who never think of ſmothering paſſion. But this character is not univerſal: ſome tribes are remark⯑able for humanity, as mentioned in the firſt ſketch. Anger and reſentment formed the character of our European anceſtors, and made them fierce and cruel. The Goths were ſo prone to blood, that in their firſt inroads into the Roman territories they [21] maſſacred man, woman, and child. Procopius re⯑ports, that in one of theſe inroads they left Italy thin of inhabitants. They were however an honeſt people; and by the poliſh they received in the civilized parts of Europe, they became no leſs re⯑markable for humanity, than formerly for cruelty. Totila, their king, having maſtered Rome after a long and bloody ſiege, permitted not a ſingle perſon to be killed in cold blood, nor the chaſtity of any woman to be attempted. One cannot without hor⯑ror think of the wanton cruelties exerciſed by the Tartars againſt the nations invaded by them under Gengizcan and Timor Bec.

A Scythian, ſays Herodotus, preſents the king with the heads of the enemies he has killed in bat⯑tle; and the man who brings not a head, gets no ſhare of the plunder. He adds, that many Scythi⯑ans clothe themſelves with the ſkins of men, and make uſe of the ſculls of their enemies to drink out of. Diodorus Siculus reports of the Gauls, that they carry home the heads of their enemies ſlain in battle: and after embalming them, depoſit them in cheſts as their chief trophy; bragging of the ſums offered for theſe heads by the friends of the deceaſ⯑ed, and refuſed. In ſimilar circumſtances men are the ſame all the world over. The ſcalping of ene⯑mies, in daily uſe among the North-American ſavages, is equally cruel and barbarous.

No ſavages are more cruel than the Greeks and Trojans were, as deſcribed by Homer; men butch⯑ered in cold blood, towns reduced to aſhes, ſovereigns expoſed to the moſt humbling indignities, no reſpect paid to age nor to ſex. The young Adraſtus^r, thrown from his car, and lying on his face in the duſt, obtained quarter from Menelaus. Agamem⯑non upbraided his brother for lenity: ‘"Let none [22] from deſtruction eſcape, not even the liſping in⯑fant in the mother's arms: all her ſons muſt with Ilium fall, and on her ruins unburied remain."’ He pierced the ſupplicant with his ſpear; and ſet⯑ting his foot on the body, pulled it out. Hector, having ſtripped Patroclus of his arms, drags the ſlain along, vowing to lop the head from the trunk, and to give the mangled corſe a prey to the dogs of Troy. And the ſeventeenth book of the Iliad is wholly employed in deſcribing the conteſt about the body between the Greeks and Trojans. Beſide the brutality of preventing the laſt duties from being performed to a dead friend, it is a low ſcene, un⯑worthy of heroes. It was equally brutal in Achilles to drag the corſe of Hector to the ſhips, tied to his car. In a ſcene between Hector and Andromache^s, the treatment of vanquiſhed enemies is pathe⯑tically deſcribed; ſovereigns maſſacred, and their bodies left a prey to dogs and vultures; ſucking in⯑fants daſhed againſt the pavement; ladies of the firſt rank forced to perform the loweſt acts of ſlavery. Hector doth not diſſemble, that if Troy were con⯑quered, his poor wife would be condemned to draw water like the vileſt ſlave. Hecuba, in Euripides, laments, that ſhe was chained like a dog at Aga⯑memnon's gate; and the ſame ſavage manners are deſcribed in many other Greek tragedies. Prome⯑thus makes free with the heavenly fire, in order to give life to man. As a puniſhment for bringing rational creatures into exiſtence, the gods decree, that he be chained to a rock, and abandoned to birds of prey. Vulcan is introduced by Eſchylus rattling the chain, nailing one end to a rock, and the other to the breaſt-bone of the criminal. Who but an American ſavage can at preſent behold ſuch a ſpec⯑tacle and not be ſhocked at it? A ſcene repreſenting [23] a woman murdered by her children, would be hiſſed by every modern audience; and yet that horrid ſcene was repreſented with applauſe in the Electra of Sophocles. Stoboeus reports a ſaying of Menan⯑der, that even the gods cannot inſpire a ſoldier with civility: no wonder that the Greek ſoldiers were brutes and barbarians, when war was waged, not only againſt the ſtate, but againſt every individual. At preſent, humanity prevails among ſoldiers as among others; becauſe we make war only againſt a ſtate, not againſt individuals. The Greeks are the leſs excuſable for their cruelty, as they appear to have been ſenſible that humanity is a cardinal virtue. Barbarians are always painted by Homer as cruel; poliſhed nations as tender and compaſ⯑ſionate:

Cruelty is inconſiſtent with true heroiſm; and accordingly very little of the latter is diſcoverable in any of Homer's warriors. So much did they retain of the ſavage character, as, even without bluſhing, to fly from an enemy ſuperior in bodily ſtrength. Diomedes, who makes an illuſtrious figure in the fifth book of the Iliad, retires when Hector ap⯑pears: ‘"Diomedes beheld the chief, and ſhuddered to his inmoſt ſoul."’ Antilochus, ſon of Neſtor, having ſlain Melanippus^t, ruſhed forward, eager to ſeize his bright arms. But ſeeing Hector, he fled like a beaſt of prey who ſhuns the gathering hinds. And the great Hector himſelf ſhamefully [24] turns his back upon the near approach of Achilles: ‘"Periphetes, endowed with every virtue, renown⯑ed in the race, great in war, in prudence excel⯑ling his fellows, gave glory to Hector, covering the chief with renown."’ One would expect a fierce combat between theſe two bold warriors. Not ſo. Periphetes ſtumbling, fell to the ground; and Hector was not aſhamed to transfix with his ſpear the unreſiſting hero.

In the ſame tone of character, nothing is more common among Homer's warriors than to inſult a vanquiſhed foe. Patroclus, having beat Cebriones to the ground with a huge ſtone, derides his fall in the following words.

The Greeks are repreſented^u one after another ſtabbing the dead body of Hector: ‘"Nor ſtood an Argive near the chief who inflicted not a wound. Surely now, ſaid they, more eaſy of acceſs is Hector, than when he launched on the ſhips brands of devouring fire."’

When ſuch were the manners of warriors at the ſiege of Troy, it is no wonder that the heroes on both ſides were not leſs intent on ſtripping the ſlain than on victory. They are every where repreſent⯑ed as greedy of ſpoil.

The Jews did not yield to the Greeks in cruelty. It is unneceſſary to give inſtances, as the hiſtorical books of the Old Teſtament are in the hands of every one. I ſhall ſelect one inſtance for a ſpeci⯑men, [25] dreadfully cruel without any juſt provocation: ‘"And David gathered all the people together, and went to Rabbah, and fought againſt it, and took it. And he brought forth the people that were therein, and put them under ſaws, and under harrows of iron, and under axes of iron, and made them paſs through the brick-kiln: and thus did he unto all the cities of the children of Ammon^x."’

That cruelty was predominant among the Ro⯑mans is evident from every one of their hiſtorians. Brutality to their offspring was conſpicuous. Chil⯑dren were held, like cattle, to be the father's pro⯑perty: and ſo tenacious was the patria poteſtas, that if a ſon or daughter ſold to be a ſlave was ſet free, he or ſhe fell again under the father s power, to be ſold a ſecond time, and even a third time. The power of life and death over children was much leſs unnatural, while no public tribunal exiſted for puniſhing crimes. A ſon, being a ſlave, could have no property of his own. Julius Caeſar was the firſt who privileged a ſon to retain for his own uſe ſpoils acquired in war. When law became a lucrative profeſſion, what a ſon gained in that way was declared to be his property. In Athens, a man had power of life and death over his children; but as they were not ſlaves, what they acquired belong⯑ed to themſelves. So late as the days of Diocleſian, a ſon's marriage did not diſſolve the Roman patria poteſtas^y. But the power of ſelling children wore out of uſe^z. When powers ſo unnatural were given to men over their children, and exerciſed ſo tyran⯑nically as to make a law neceſſary prohibiting the diſinheriting of children, can there be any doubt of their cruelty to others? During the ſecond trium⯑virate, horrid cruelties were every day perpetrated [26] without pity or remorſe. Antony, having ordered Cicero to be beheaded, and the head to be brought to him, viewed it with ſavage pleaſure. His wife Fulvia laid hold of it, ſtruck it on the face, uttered many bitter execrations, and having placed it be⯑tween her knees, drew out the tongue, and pierced it with a bodkin. The delight it gave the Romans to ſee wild beaſts ſet looſe againſt one another in their circus, is a proof not at all ambiguous of their taſte for blood, even at the time of their higheſt civilization. The Edile Scaurus ſent at one time to Rome 150 panthers, Pompey 410, and Auguſtus 410, for the public ſpectacles. Their gladiatorian combats are not ſo clear a proof of their ferocity: the courage and addreſs exerted in theſe combats gave a manly pleaſure that balanced in ſome mea⯑ſure the pain of ſeeing theſe poor fellows cut and ſlaſh one another. And that the Romans were ne⯑ver cured of their itch for blood, appears from Caligula, Nero, and many other monſters, who governed the Romans from Auguſtus downward. There is no example in modern times of ſuch mon⯑ſters in France, though an abſolute monarchy, nor even in Turky.

Ferocity was in the Roman empire conſiderably mollified by literature and other fine arts; but it acquired new vigour upon the irruption of the bar⯑barous nations who cruſhed that empire. In the year 559, Clotaire, King of the Franks, burnt alive his ſon, with all his friends, becauſe they had rebelled againſt him. Queen Brunehaud being, by Clotaire II. condemned to die, was dragged through the camp at a horſe's tail till ſhe gave up the ghoſt. The ferocity of European nations became altogether intolerable during the anarchy of the feudal ſyſtem. Many peaſants in the northern provinces of France being ſorely oppreſſed in civil wars carried on by the nobles againſt each other, turned deſperate, [27] gathered together in bodies, reſolving to extirpate all the nobles. A party of them, anno 1358, forced open the caſtle of a knight, hung him up upon a gal⯑lows, violated in his preſence his wife and daughters, roaſted him upon a ſpit, compelled his wife and children to eat of his fleſh, and terminated that hor⯑rid ſcene with maſſacring the whole family, and burning the caſtle. When they were aſhed, ſays Froiſſard, why they committed ſuch abominable actions, their anſwer was, ‘"That they did as they ſaw others do; and that all the nobles in the world ought to be deſtroyed."’ The nobles, when they got the upper hand, were equally cruel. They put all to fire and ſword; and maſſacred eve⯑ry peaſant who came in the way, without troubling themſelves to ſeparate the innocent from the guilty. The Count de Ligny encouraged his nephew, a boy of fifteen, to kill with his own hand ſome pri⯑ſoners who were his countrymen; in which, ſays Monſtrelet, the young man took great delight. How much worſe than brutal muſt have been the manners of that age! for even a beaſt of prey kills not but when inſtigated by hunger. The third act, of ſtealing from the lead-mines in Derby, was, by a law of Edward I. puniſhed in the following man⯑ner: A hand of the criminal was nailed to a table; and in that ſtate he was left without meat or drink, having no means for freedom but to employ the one hand to cut off the other. The barbarity of the Eng⯑liſh at that period made ſevere puniſhments neceſ⯑ſarary: but the puniſhment mentioned goes beyond ſeverity; it is brutal cruelty. The barbarous treat⯑ment of the Jews, during the dark ages of Chriſti⯑anity, gives pregnant evidence, that Chriſtians were not ſhort of Pagans in cruelty. Poiſon and aſſaſſination were moſt licentiouſly perpetrated, no farther back than the laſt century. Some pious men made vigorous efforts in more than one general [28] council to have aſſaſſination condemned, as repug⯑nant to the law of God; but in vain^*.

I wiſh to ſoften the foregoing ſcene: it may be ſoftened a little. Among barbarians, puniſhments muſt be ſanguinary; as their bodies only are ſenſi⯑ble of pain, not their minds.

The reſtoration of arts and ſciences in Europe, followed with a reformation in religion, had a won⯑derful effect in ſweetening manners, and promoting the intereſts of ſociety. Of all crimes high treaſon is the moſt involved in circumſtances, and upon that account the moſt difficult to be defined or cir⯑cumſcribed: at the ſame time, the influence of government upon its judges ſeldom permits a fair trial. And yet, for that crime are reſerved the moſt exquiſite torments. In England, the puniſhment is, to cut up the criminal alive, to tear out his heart, to daſh it about his ears, and to throw it into the flames. The ſame puniſhment continues in form, not in reality: the heart indeed is torn out, but not till the criminal is ſtrangled. Even the virulence of religious zeal is conſiderably abated. Savonarola was condemned to the flames as an impious impoſtor; but he was firſt privately ſtrangled. The fine arts, which humanize man⯑ners, were in Italy at that time accelerating toward [29] perfection. The famous Latimer was in England condemned to be burnt for hereſy: but bags of gun⯑powder were put under his arms, that he might be burnt with the leaſt pain. Even Knox, a violent Scotch reformer, acknowledges, that Wiſhart was ſtrangled before he was thrown into the flames for hereſy. So bitter was the late perſecution againſt the Jeſuits, that not only were their perſons pro⯑ſcribed, but in many places their books, not even excepting books upon mathematics, and other ab⯑ſtract ſubjects. That perſecution reſembled in ma⯑ny particulars the perſecution againſt the knights⯑templars: fifty-nine of the latter were burnt alive: the former were really leſs innocent; and yet ſuch humanity prevails at preſent, that not a drop of Jeſuit-blood has been ſhed. A bankrupt in Scot⯑land, if he has not ſuffered by unavoidable misfor⯑tune, is by law condemned to wear a party-coloured garment. That law is not now put in execution, unleſs where a bankrupt deſerves to be ſtigmatized for his culpable miſconduct.

Whether the following late inſtance of barbarity does not equal any of thoſe above mentioned, I leave to my readers. No traveller who viſited Peterſburgh during the reign of the Empreſs Elizabeth can be ignorant of Madam Lapouchin, the great ornament of that court. Her intimacy with a foreign ambaſ⯑ſador having brought her under ſuſpicion of plotting with him againſt the government, ſhe was con⯑demned to undergo the puniſhment of the knout. At the place of execution ſhe appeared in a genteel undreſs, which heightened her beauty. Of what⯑ever indiſcretion ſhe might have been guilty, the ſweetneſs of her countenance, and her compoſure, left not in the ſpectators the ſlighteſt ſuſpicion of guilt. Her youth alſo, her beauty, her life and ſpirit pleaded for her.—But all in vain: ſhe was deſerted by all, and abandoned to ſurly execution⯑ers; [30] whom ſhe beheld with aſtoniſhment, ſeeming to doubt whether ſuch preparations were intended for her. The cloak that covered her boſom being pulled off, modeſty took the alarm, and made her ſtart back: ſhe turned pale, and burſt into tears. One of the executioners ſtripped her naked to the waiſt, ſeized her by both hands, and threw her on his back, raiſing her ſome inches from the ground. The other executioner laying hold of her delicate limbs with his rough fiſts, put her in a poſture for receiving the puniſhment. Then laying hold of the knout, a ſort of whip made of a leathern ſtrap, he retreated a few ſteps, and with a ſingle ſtroke tore off a ſlip of ſkin from the neck downward, re⯑peating his ſtrokes till all the ſkin of her back was cut off in ſmall ſlips. The executioner finiſhed his taſk with cutting out her tongue; after which ſhe was baniſhed to Siberia^*.

The native inhabitants of the iſland Amboyna are Malayans. Thoſe on the ſea-coaſt are ſubject to the Dutch: thoſe in the inland parts are declared enemies to the Dutch, and never give quarter. A Dutch captive, after being confined five days with⯑out food, is ripped up, his heart cut out, and the head, ſevered from the body, is preſerved in ſpice [31] for a trophy. Thoſe who can ſhow the greateſt number of Dutch heads are the moſt honourable.

In early times, when revenge and cruelty tramp⯑led on law, people formed aſſociations for ſecuring their lives and their poſſeſſions. Theſe were com⯑mon in Scandinavia and in Scotland. They were alſo common in England during the Anglo-Saxon period, and for ſome ages after the Conqueſt. But inſtead of ſupporting juſtice, they contributed more than any other cauſe to anarchy and confuſion, the members protecting each other, even in robbery and murder. They were ſuppreſſed in England by a ſtatute of Richard II.; and in Scotland by reite⯑rated ſtatutes.

Roughneſs and harſhneſs of manners are general⯑ly connected with cruelty; and the manners of the Greeks and Trojans are accordingly repreſented in the Iliad as remarkably rough and harſh. When the armies were ready to engage^a, Meneſtheus King of Athens, and Ulyſſes of Ithaca, are bitterly reproached by Agamemnon for lingering, while others were more forward. ‘"Son of Peleus, he ſaid, and thou verſed in artful deceil, in miſchief only wiſe, why trembling ſhrink ye back from the field; why wait till others engage in fight? You it became, as firſt in rank, the firſt to meet the flame of war. Ye firſt to the banquet are called when we ſpread the feaſt. Your delight is to eat, to regale, to quaff unſtinted the gene⯑rous wine."’ In the fifth book Sarpedon upbraids Hector for cowardice. And Tlepolemus, ready to engage with Sarpedon, attacks him firſt with re⯑viling and ſcurrilous words. Becauſe Hector was not able to reſcue the dead body of Sarpedon from the Greeks, he is upbraided by Glaucus, Sarpedon's friend, in the following words. ‘"Hector, though [32] ſpecious in form, diſtant art thou from valour in arms. Undeſerved haſt thou fame acquired, when thus thou ſhrinkeſt from the field. Thou ſuſtaineſt not the dreadful arm, nor even the ſight of god-like Ajax. Thou haſt ſhunned his face in the fight: thou dareſt not approach his ſpear."’

Rough and harſh manners produced ſlavery; and ſlavery ſoſtered rough and harſh manners, by giving them conſtant exerciſe. The brutality of the Spartans to the Helots, their ſlaves, is a reproach to the human ſpecies. Beſide the harſh⯑eſt uſage, they were prevented from multiplying by downright murder and maſſacre. Why did not ſuch barbarity render the Spartans deteſtable, in⯑ſtead of being reſpected by their neighbours, as the moſt virtuous people in Greece? There can be but one reaſon, that the Greeks were all of them cruel, the Spartans a little more, perhaps, than the reſt. In Rome, a ſlave, chained at the gate of every great houſe, gave admittance to the gueſts invited to a feaſt: could any but barbarians bear ſuch a ſpectacle without pain? If a Roman citizen was found murdered in his own houſe, his whole houſehold-ſlaves, perhaps two or three hundred, were put to death without mercy, unleſs they could detect the murderer. Such a law, cruel and unjuſt, could never have been enacted among a people of any humanity.

Whence the rough and harſh manners of our Weſt-Indian planters, but from the unreſtrained licence of venting ill humour upon their negro ſlaves^*? Why are carters a rugged ſet of men? [33] Plainly becauſe horſes, their ſlaves, ſubmit without reſiſtance. An ingenious writer, deſcribing Guia⯑na in the ſouthern continent of America, obſerves, [34] that the negroes, who are more numerous than the whites, muſt be kept in awe by ſeverity of diſci⯑pline. And he endeavours to juſtify the practice; urging, that beſide contributing to the ſafety of the white inhabitants, it makes the ſlaves them⯑ſelves leſs unhappy. ‘"Impoſſibility of attainment,"’ ſays he, ‘"never fails to annihilate deſire of enjoy⯑ment; and rigid treatment, ſuppreſſing every hope of liberty, makes them peaceably ſubmit to ſlavery."’ Sad, indeed, muſt be the condition of ſlaves, if harſh treatment contribute to make them leſs unhappy. Such reaſoning may be reliſh⯑ed by rough European planters, intent upon gain: I am inclined, however, to believe, that the harſh treatment of theſe poor people is more owing to the avarice of their maſters, than to their own per⯑verſeneſs^*. That ſlaves in all ages have been harſhly treated, is a melancholy truth. One ex⯑ception I know, and but one, which I gladly men⯑tion, in honour of the Mandingo negroes. Their ſlaves, who are numerous, receive very gentle treat⯑ment; the women eſpecially, who are generally ſo well dreſſed as not to be diſtinguiſhed from thoſe who are free.

Many political writers are of opinion, that for crimes inſtigated by avarice only, ſlavery for life and hard work, would be a more adequate puniſh⯑ment than death. I would ſubſcribe to that opinion, but for the following conſideration, that the having [35] ſuch criminals perpetually in view would harden the hearts of the ſpectators, and eradicate pity, a capital moral paſſion. Behold the behaviour of the Dutch, in the Iſland of Amboyna. A native who is found guilty of theft is deprived of his ears and noſe, and made a ſlave for life. William Funnel, who was there anno 1705, reports, that five hun⯑dred of theſe wretches were ſecured in priſon, and never ſuffered to go abroad, but in order to ſaw timber, to cut ſtone, or to carry heavy burdens. Their food is a pittance of coarſe rice, boiled in water, and their bed the hard ground. What is ſtill worſe, poor people, who happen to run in debt, are turned over to the ſervants of the Eaſt India company, who ſend them to work among their ſlaves, with a daily allowance of two pence, which goes to the creditor. A nation muſt be de⯑void of bowels, who can eſtabliſh ſuch inhumanity by law. But time has rendered that practice fami⯑liar to the Dutch, ſo as to behold, with abſolute indifference, the multiplied miſeries of their fellow⯑creatures. It appears, indeed, that ſuch a puniſh⯑ment would be more effectual than death, to re⯑preſs theft; but can any one doubt, that ſociety would ſuffer more by eradicating pity and humani⯑ty, than it would gain by removing every one by death who is guilty of theft? At the ſame time, the Dutch, however cruel to the natives, are ex⯑tremely complaiſant to one another: ſeldom is any one of them puniſhed but for murder: a ſmall ſum will procure pardon for any other crime.

A degree of coarſeneſs and indelicacy is connect⯑ed with rough manners. The manners of the Greeks, as copied by Plautus and Terence, from Menander and other Greek writers, were extreme⯑ly coarſe; ſuch as may be expected in a people living among their ſlaves, without any ſociety with virtuous women. The behaviour of Demoſthenes [36] and Eſchines to each other, in their public ha⯑rangues, is woefully coarſe. But Athens was a de⯑mocracy; and a democracy, above all other go⯑vernments, is rough and licentious. In the Athe⯑nian comedy, neither gods nor men are ſpared. The moſt reſpectable perſons of the republic are ridiculed by name, in the comedies of Ariſtopha⯑nes, which wallow in looſeneſs and detraction. In the third act of Andromaché, a tragedy of Euri⯑pides, Peleus and Menelaus, Kings of Theſſaly and Sparta, fall into downright ribaldry; Mene⯑laus ſwearing that he would not give up his vic⯑tim, and Peleus threatening to knock him down with his ſtaff. The manners of Jaſon, in the tra⯑gedy of Medea by Euripides, are woefully indeli⯑cate. With unparalleled gratitude to his wife Medea, he, in her preſence, makes love to the King of Corinth's daughter, and obtains her in marriage. Inſtead of ſhunning a perſon he had ſo deeply injured, he endeavours to excuſe himſelf to her in a very ſneaking manner, ‘"that he was an exile like herſelf, without ſupport; and that his marriage would acquire powerful friends to them and to their children."’ Could he imagine, that ſuch frigid reaſons would touch a woman of any ſpirit? But the moſt ſtriking picture of inde⯑licate manners is exhibited in the tragedy of Al⯑ceſtes. Admetus prevails upon Alceſtes, his loving and beloved wife, to die in his ſtead. What a bar⯑barian muſt the man be, who graſps at life upon ſuch a condition? How ridiculous is the bombaſt flouriſh of Admetus, that, if he were Orpheus, he would pierce to hell, brave the three-headed Cer⯑berus, and reſtore his wife to earth again! And how indecently does he ſcold his father, for refuſing to die for him! What pretext could the monſter have to complain of his father, when he himſelf was ſo diſgracefully fond of life, as even to ſolicit his beloved wife to die in his ſtead! What ſtronger [37] inſtance, after all, would one require of indelicacy in the manners of the Greeks, than that they held all the world, except themſelves, to be barbarians? In that particular, however, they are not altogether ſingular. Though the Tartars, as mentioned above, were foul-feeders, and hoggiſhly naſty, yet they were extremely proud, deſpiſing, like the Greeks, every other nation. The people of Congo think the world to be the work of angels; except their own country, which they hold to be the handy⯑work of the ſupreme architect. The Greenlanders have a high conceit of themſelves; and, in private, make a mock of the Europeans, or Kablunets, as they call them. Deſpiſing arts and ſciences, they value themſelves on their ſkill in catching ſeals, conceiving it to be the only uſeful art. They hold themſelves to be the only civilized and well-bred people; and when they ſee a modeſt ſtranger, they ſay, ‘"he begins to be a man;"’ that is, to be like one of themſelves.

So coarſe and indelicate were Roman manners, that whipping was a puniſhment inflicted on the officers of the army, not even excepting centu⯑rions^b. Doth it not ſhow extreme groſſneſs of manners, to expreſs, in plain words, the parts that modeſty bids us conceal? and yet this is com⯑mon in Greek and Roman writers. In the Cyclops of Euripides, there is repreſented a ſcene of the vice againſt nature, groſsly obſcene, without the leaſt diſguiſe. How woefully indelicate muſt the man have been, who could ſit down gravely to compoſe ſuch a piece! and how diſſolute muſt the ſpectators have been, who could behold ſuch a ſcene without hiſſing! Next to the indecency of expoſing one's nudities in good company, is the talking of them without reſerve. Horace is extremely obſcene, and Martial no leſs. But I [38] cenſure neither of them, and, as little, the Queen of Navarre for her Tales; for they wrote according to the manners of the times. It is the manners I cenſure, not the writers. A woman taken in adultery was proſtituted in the public ſtreet to all comers, a bell ringing the whole time. This abo⯑minable practice was aboliſhed by the Emperor Theodoſius^c.

The manners of Europe, before the revival of letters, were no leſs coarſe than cruel. In the Car⯑tularies of Charlemagne, judges are forbid to hold courts but in the morning, with an empty ſtomach. It would appear, that men in thoſe days were not aſhamed to be ſeen drunk, even in a court of juſtice. It was cuſtomary, both in France and Italy, to collect for ſport all the ſtrumpets in the neighbourhood, and to make them run races. Se⯑veral feudal tenures give evidence of manners both low and coarſe. Struvius mentions a tenure, bind⯑ing the vaſſal, on the birth-day of his lord, to dance and fart before him. The cod-piece, which, a few centuries ago, made part of a man's dreſs, and which ſwelled, by degrees, to a monſtrous ſize, teſtifies ſhamefully-coarſe manners; and yet it was a modeſt ornament, compared with one uſed in France, during the reign of Lewis XI. which was the figure of a man's privy parts worn upon the coat or breeches. In the ſame period, the Judge⯑ment of Paris was a favourite theatrical entertain⯑ment: three women, ſtark-naked, repreſented the three goddeſſes, Juno, Venus, and Minerva. Nick-names, ſo common not long ago, are an inſtance of the ſame coarſeneſs of manners; for to fix a nick-name on a man, is to uſe him with con⯑temptuous familiarity. In the thirteenth century, many clergymen refuſed to adminiſter the ſacra⯑ment [39] of the Lord's ſupper, unleſs they were paid for it^*.

Swearing, as an expletive of ſpeech, is a violent ſymptom of rough and coarſe manners. Such ſwearing prevails among all barbarous nations. Even women in Plautus ſwear fluently. Swearing prevailed in Spain and in France, till it was baniſh⯑ed by polite manners. Our Queen Elizabeth was a bold ſwearer; and the Engliſh populace, who are rough beyond their neighbours, are noted by ſtran⯑gers for that vice. Tho' ſwearing, in order to en⯑force an expreſſion, is not in itſelf immoral; it is, however, hurtful in its conſequences, rendering ſacred names too familiar. God's-beard, the com⯑mon oath of William Rufus, ſuggeſts an image of our Maker as an old man with a long beard. In vain have acts of parliament been made againſt ſwearing: it is eaſy to evade the penalty, by coin⯑ing new oaths; and as that vice proceeds from an overſlow of ſpirits, people in that condition brave penalties. Poliſhed manners are the only effectual cure for that malady.

When a people begin to emerge out of barba⯑rity, loud mirth and rough jokes come in place of rancour and reſentment. About a century ago, it was uſual for the ſervants and retainers of the court of ſeſſion in Scotland, to break out into riotous mirth and uproar the laſt day of every term, throw⯑ing bags, duſt, ſand, or ſtones, all around. We have undoubted evidence of that diſorderly practice from an act of the court, prohibiting it under a ſevere penalty, as diſhonourable to the court, [40] and unbecoming the civility requiſite in ſuch a place^d.

And this leads to the lowneſs of ancient man⯑ners; plainly diſtinguiſhable from ſimplicity of man⯑ners: the latter is agreeable, not the former. Among the ancient Egyptians, to cram a man was an act of high reſpect. Joſeph, the King's firſt miniſter, in order to honour Benjamin above his brethren, gave him a five-ſold meſs^e. The Greeks, in their feaſts, diſtinguiſhed their heroes by a double portion^f. Ulyſſes cut a fat piece out of the chine of a wild boar for Demodocus the bard^g. The ſame reſpectful politeneſs is practiſed at preſent among the American ſavages; ſo much are all men alike in ſimilar circumſtances. Telemachus^h com⯑plains bitterly of Penelope's ſuitors, that they were gluttons, and conſumed his beef and mutton. The whole fourteenth book of the Odyſſey, containing the reception of Ulyſſes by Eumaeus the ſwine-herd, is miſerably low. Manners muſt be both groſs and low where common beggars are admitted to the feaſts of princes, and receive ſcraps from their handsⁱ. In Rome, every gueſt brought his own napkin to a feaſt. A ſlave carried it home, filled with what was left from the entertainment. Sophocles, in his tragedy of Iphigenia in Aulis, repreſents Clytemneſtra ſtep⯑ping down from her car, and exhorting her ſer⯑vants to look after her baggage, with the anxiety and minuteneſs of a lady's waiting woman. Ho⯑mer paints, in lively colours, the riches of the Phoeacians, their ſkill in navigation, the magni⯑ficence [41] of the king's court, of his palace, and of the public buildings. But, with the ſame breath, he deſcribes Nauſicaa, the king's daughter, tra⯑velling to the river on a waggon of greaſy cloaths, to be waſhed there by her and her maids. Poſ⯑ſibly it will be urged that ſuch circumſtances, however low in our opinion, might appear other⯑wiſe to the Greeks. If they had appeared low to the Greeks, they would not have been introduced by their greateſt poet. But what does this prove, other than that the Greeks were low in their man⯑ners? Their manners did not correſpond to the delicacy of their taſte in the fine arts. Nor can it be expected that they ſhould correſpond, when the Greeks were ſtrangers to that polite ſociety with women, which refines behaviour, and elevates manners. The firſt kings in Greece, as Thucy⯑dides obſerves, were elective, having no power but to command their armies in time of war; which reſembles the government that obtains at preſent in the Iſthmus of Darien. They had no written laws, being governed by cuſtom merely. To live by plunder was held honourable; for it was their opinion, that the rules of juſtice are not intended for reſtraining the powerful. All ſtran⯑gers were accounted enemies, as among the Ro⯑mans; and inns were unknown, becauſe people lived at home, having very little intercourſe even with thoſe of their own nation. Inns were un⯑known in Germany; and to this day are unknown in the remote parts of the Highlands of Scotland; but for an oppoſite reaſon, that hoſpitality prevail⯑ed greatly among the ancient Germans, and con⯑tinues to prevail ſo much among our Highlanders, that a gentleman takes it for an affront, if a ſtran⯑ger paſs his houſe. At a congreſs between Francis I. of France, and Henry VIII. of England, among other ſpectacles for public entertainment, the two [42] kings had a wreſtling-match. Had they forgot that they were ſovereign princes?

One would imagine war to be a ſoil too rough for the growth of civilization; and yet it is not always an unkindly ſoil. War between two ſmall tribes is fierce and cruel: but a large ſtate mitigates reſentment, by directing it, not againſt individuals, but againſt the ſtate in general. We know no enemies but thoſe who are in arms: we have no reſentment againſt others, but rather find a plea⯑ſure in treating them with humanity. Barbarity and cruelty, having thus in war few individuals for their objects, naturally ſubſide; and magnanimity in their ſtead transforms ſoliders from brutes to heroes. Some time ago, it was uſual in France to demand battle; and it was held diſhonourable to decline it, however unequal the match. Here was heroiſm without prudence; but in all reformations it is natural to go from one extreme to the other. While the King of England held any poſſeſſions in France, war was perpetual between the two nations, which was commonly carried on with more magnanimity than is uſual between inveterate ene⯑mies. It became cuſtomary to give priſoners their freedom, upon a ſimple parole to return with their ranſom at a day named. The ſame was the cuſtom in the border-wars between the Engliſh and Scots, before their union under one monarch. Both par⯑ties found their account equally in ſuch honourable behaviour. Edward Prince of Wales, in a pitched battle againſt the French, took the illuſtrious Ber⯑trand du Gueſclin priſoner. He long declined to accept a ranſom; but finding it whiſpered that he was afraid of that hero, he inſtantly ſet him at li⯑berty without a ranſom. This may be deemed im⯑politic or whimſical: but is love of glory leſs praiſe⯑worthy than love of conqueſt? The Duke of Guiſe, victor in the battle of Dreux, reſted all night in the [43] field of battle; and gave the Prince of Conde, his priſoner, a ſhare of his bed, where they lay like brothers. The Chevalier Bayard, commander of a French army, anno 1524, being mortally wound⯑ed in retreating from the Imperialiſts, placed him⯑ſelf under a tree, his face however to the enemy. The Marquis de Peſcara, General of the Imperial forces, finding him dead in that poſture, behaved with the generoſity of a gallant adverſary: he di⯑rected his body to be embalmed, and to be ſent to his relations in the moſt honourable manner. Mag⯑nanimity and heroiſm, in which benevolence is an eſſential ingredient, are inconſiſtent with cruelty, perſidy, or any groveling paſſion. Never was gal⯑lantry in war carried to a greater height, than be⯑tween the Engliſh and Scotch borderers before the crowns were united. The night after the battle of Otterburn, the victors and vanquiſhed lay promiſ⯑cuouſly in the ſame camp, without apprehending the leaſt danger one from the other. The manners of ancient warriors were very different. Homer's hero, tho' ſuperior to all in bodily ſtrength, takes every advantage of his enemy; and never feels either compaſſion or remorſe. The politic of the Greeks and Romans in war, was to weaken the ſtate by plundering its territory, and deſtroying its people. Humanity with us prevails even in war. Individuals not in arms are ſecure, which ſaves much innocent blood. Priſoners were ſet at liberty upon paying a ranſom; and by later improvements in manners, even that practice is left off, as too mercantile, a more honourable practice being ſub⯑ſtituted, viz. a cartel for exchange of priſoners. Humanity was carried to a ſtill greater height, in our late war with France, by an agreement between the Duke de Noailles and the Earl of Stair, That the hoſpitals for the ſick and wounded ſoldiers ſhould be ſecure from all hoſtilities. The humanity of the [44] Duke de Randan, in the ſame war, makes an illuſ⯑trious figure even in the preſent age, remarkable for humanity to enemies. When the French troops were compelled to abandon their conqueſts in the electorate of Hanover, their Generals every where burnt their magazines, and plundered the people. The Duke de Randan, who commanded in the city of Hanover, put the magiſtrates in poſſeſſion of his magazines, requeſting them to diſtribute the contents among the poor; and he was beſide ex⯑tremely vigilant to prevent his ſoldiers from com⯑mitting acts of violence^*. The neceſſity of fortify⯑ing [45] towns to guard from deſtruction the innocent and defenceleſs, affords convincing evidence of the ſavage cruelty that prevailed in former times. By the growth of humanity, ſuch fortifications have become leſs frequent; and they ſerve no purpoſe at preſent but to defend againſt invaſion; in which view a ſmall fortification, if but ſufficient for the garriſon, is greatly preferable; being conſtructed at a much leſs expence, and having no mouths to provide for but the garriſon only.

In the progreſs of ſociety there is commonly a re⯑markable period, when ſocial and diſſocial paſſions ſeem to bear equal ſway, prevailing alternately. In the hiſtory of Alexander's ſucceſſors, there are fre⯑quent inſtances of cruelty, equalling that of Ameri⯑can ſavages; and inſtances no leſs frequent of gra⯑titude, of generoſity, and even of clemency, that betoken manners highly poliſhed. Ptolemy of Egypt, having gained a complete victory over De⯑metrius, ſon of Antigonus, reſtored to him his equipage, his friends, and his domeſtics, ſaying, [46] that ‘"they ought not to make war for plunder, but for glory."’ Demetrius having defeated one of Ptolemy's Generals, was leſs delighted with the victory, than with the opportunity of rivalling his antagoniſt in humanity. The ſame Demetrius having reſtored liberty to the Athenians, was treat⯑ed by them as a demi-god; and yet afterward, in his adverſity, their gates were ſhut againſt him. Upon a change of fortune he laid ſiege to Athens, reſolving to chaſtiſe that rebellious and ungrateful people. He aſſembled the inhabitants in the thea⯑tre, ſurrounding them with his army, as preparing for a total maſſacre. But their terror was ſhort; he pronounced their pardon, and beſtowed on them 100,000 meaſures of wheat. Ptolemy, the ſame who is mentioned above, having at the ſiege of Tyre ſummoned Andronicus the governor to ſur⯑render, received a provoking and contemptuous an⯑ſwer. The town being taken, Andronicus gave himſelf over for loſt: but the King, thinking it below his dignity to reſent an injury againſt an in⯑ferior, now his priſoner, not only overlooked the affront, but courted Andronicus to be his friend. Edward the Black Prince is an inſlance of refined manners, breaking, like a ſpark of fire, through the gloom of barbarity. The Emperor Charles V. after loſing 30,000 men at the ſiege of Metz, made an ignominious retreat, leaving his camp filled with ſick and wounded, dead and dying. Though the war between him and the King of France was car⯑ried on with unuſual rancour, yet the Duke of Guiſe, governor of the town, exerted in thoſe bar⯑barous times a degree of humanity that would make a ſplendid figure even at preſent: He ordered plen⯑ty of food for thoſe who were dying of hunger, ap⯑pointed ſurgeons to attend the ſick and wounded, removed to the adjacent villages thoſe who could bear motion, and admitted the remainder into the [47] hoſpitals that he had fitted up for his own ſoldiers; thoſe who recovered their health were ſent home, with money to defray the expence of the jour⯑ney.

In the period that intervenes between barbarity and humanity, there are not wanting inſtances of oppoſite paſſions in the ſame perſon, governing al⯑ternately; as if a man could this moment be mild and gentle, and next moment harſh and brutal. To vouch the obſervation, I beg leave to introduce two rival monarchs, who for many years diſtreſſed their own people, and diſturbed Europe, viz. the Emperor Charles, and the French King Francis. The Emperor, driven by contrary winds on the coaſt of France, was invited by Francis, who hap⯑pened to be in the neighbourhood, to take ſhelter in his dominions, propoſing an interview at Aigues-Mortes, a ſea-port town. The Emperor inſtantly repaired there in his galley; and Francis, relying on the Emperor's honour, viſited him on ſhipboard, and was received with every expreſſion of affection. Next day, the Emperor repaid the confidence re⯑poſed in him: he landed at Aigues-Mortes with as little precaution, and found a reception equally cordial. After twenty years of open hoſtilities, or of ſecret enmity, after having formally given the lie, and challenged each other to ſingle combat, after the Emperor had publicly inveighed againſt Francis as void of honour, and Francis had accuſed the Emperor as murderer of his own ſon; ſuch behaviour will ſcarce be thought conſiſtent with human nature. But theſe monarchs lived in a pe⯑riod verging from cruelty to humanity; and ſuch periods abound with ſurpriſing changes of temper and conduct. In the preſent times, ſuch changes are unknown.

Conqueſt has not always the ſame effect upon the manners of the conquered. The Tartars who [48] ſubdued China in the thirteenth century, adopted immediately the Chineſe manners: the government, laws, cuſtoms, continued without variation. And the ſame happened upon their ſecond conqueſt of China in the ſeventeenth century. The barbarous nations alſo who cruſhed the Roman empire, adopted the laws, cuſtoms, and manners, of the conquered. Very different was the fate of the Greek empire when conquered by the Turks That warlike nation in⯑troduced every where their own laws and manners: even at this day they continue a diſtinct people, as much as ever. The Tartars, as well as the bar⯑barians who overthrew the Roman empire, were all of them rude and illiterate, deſtitute of laws, and ignorant of government. Such nations readily adopt the laws and manners of a civilized people, whom they admire. The Turks had laws, and a regular government; and the Greeks, when ſubdued by them, were reduced by luxury and ſenſuality to be objects of contempt, not of imitation.

Manners are deeply affected by perſecution. The forms of procedure in the Inquiſition enable the inquiſitors to ruin whom they pleaſe. A perſon ac⯑cuſed is not confronted with the accuſer: every ſort of accuſation is welcome, and from every perſon: a child, a common proſtitute, one branded with infamy, are reputable witneſſes: a ſon is compelled to give evidence againſt his father, and a woman againſt her huſband. Nay, the perſons accuſed are compelled to inform againſt themſelves, by gueſſing what ſin they may have been guilty of. Such odi⯑ous, cruel. and tyrannical proceedings, made all Spain tremble: every man diſtruſted his neighbour, and even his own family: a total end was put to friendſhip, and to ſocial freedom. Hence the gra⯑vity and reſerve of a people, who have naturally all [49] the vivacity of a temperate clime and bountiful ſoil^*. Hence the profound ignorance of that people, while other European nations are daily improving in eve⯑ry art and in every ſcience. Human nature is reduced to its loweſt ſtate, when governed by ſuper⯑ſtition clothed with power.

We proceed to another capital article in the hiſ⯑tory of manners, viz. the ſelfiſh and ſocial branches of our nature, by which manners are greatly influ⯑enced. Selfiſhneſs prevails among ſavages; becauſe corporeal pleaſures are its chief objects, and of the e every ſavage is perfectly ſenſible. Benevolence and kindly affection are too refined for a ſavage, unleſs of the ſimpleſt kind, ſuch as the ties of blood. While artificial wants were unknown, ſelfiſhneſs made no ſigure: the means of gratifying the calls of nature were in plenty; and men, who are not afraid of ever being in want, never think of provid⯑ing againſt it; and far leſs do they think of coveting what belongs to another. But men are not long contented with ſimple neceſſaries: an unwearied appetite to be more and more comfortably provided, leads them from neceſſaries to conveniencies, and from theſe to every luxury of life. Avarice turns headſtrong; and locks and bars, formerly unknown, become neceſſary to protect individuals from the rapacity of their neighbours. When the goods of fortune, money in particular, come to be prized, ſelfiſhneſs ſoon diſplays itſelf. In Madagaſcar, a man who makes a preſent of an ox or a calf, ex⯑pects the value in return: and ſcruples not to ſay, ‘"You my friend, I your friend; you no my friend, I no your friend; I ſalamanca you, you ſalamanca me."’ Salamanca means, the making a preſent. [50] Admiral Watſon being introduced to the King of Baba, in Madagaſcar, was aſked by his Majeſty, what preſents he had brought. Hence the cuſtom, univerſal among barbarians, of always accoſting a king, or any man of high rank, with preſents. The peculiar excellence of man, above all other animals, is the capacity he has of improving by education and example. In proportion as his faculties refine, he acquires a reliſh for ſociety, and finds a pleaſure in benevolence, generoſity, and in every other kind⯑ly affection, far above what ſelfiſhneſs can afford. How agreeable is this ſcene! Alas, too agreeable to laſt for ever. Opulence and luxury inflame the hoarding appetite; and ſelfiſhneſs at laſt prevails as it did originally. The ſelfiſhneſs however of ſavages differs from that of pampered people. Luxury, confining a man's whole views to himſelf, admits not of friendſhip, and ſcarce of any other ſocial paſ⯑ſion. But where a ſavage takes a liking to a parti⯑cular perſon, the whole force of his ſocial affection being directed to a ſingle object, becomes extreme⯑ly fervid. Hence the unexampled friendſhip between Achilles and Patroclus in the Iliad; and hence ma⯑ny ſuch friendſhips among ſavages.

But there is much more to be ſaid of the influence of opulence on manners. Rude and illiterate nati⯑ons are tenacious of their laws and manners; for they are governed by cuſtom, which is more and more rivetted by length of time. A people, on the contrary, who are poliſhed by having paſſed through various ſcenes, are full of invention, and conſtantly thinking of new modes. Manners in particular can never be ſtationary, in a nation which is refined by proſperity and the arts of peace. Good government will advance men to a high degree of civilization; but the very beſt government will not preſerve them from corruption, after becoming rich by proſperity. Opulence begets luxury, and envigorates the appe⯑tite [51] for ſenſual pleaſure. The appetite, when in⯑flamed, is never confined within moderate bounds, but clings to every object of gratification, without regard to propriety or decency. When Septimius Severus was elected Emperor, he found on the roll of cauſes depending before the judges in Rome no fewer than three thouſand accuſations of adultery. From that moment he abandoned all thoughts of attempting a reformation. Love of pleaſure is ſimilar to love of money: the more they are indulg⯑ed the more they are inflamed. Polygamy is an incentive to the vice againſt nature; one act of in⯑continence leading to others, without end. When the Sultan Achmet was depoſed at Conſtantinople, the people breaking into the houſe of one of his favourites, found not a ſingle woman. It is report⯑ed of the Algerines, that in many of their ſeraglios there are no women. For the ſame reaſon, poly⯑gamy is far from preventing adultery, a truth finely illuſtrated in Nathan's parable to David. What judgement then are we to form of the opulent cities London and Paris, where pleaſure is the ruling paſ⯑ſion, and where riches are coveted as inſtruments of ſenſuality? What is to be expected but a peſtifer⯑ous corruption of manners? Selfiſhneſs, ingroſſing the whole ſoul, eradicates patriotiſm, and leaves not a cranny for ſocial virtue. If in that condition men abſtain from robbery or from murder, it is not love of juſtice that reſtrains them, but dread of pu⯑niſhment. Babylon is arraigned by Greek writers for luxury, ſenſuality, and profligacy. But Baby⯑lon repreſents the capital of every opulent kingdom, ancient and modern: the manners of all are the ſame; for power and riches never fail to produce luxury, ſenſuality, and profligacy. Canghi Em⯑peror of China, who died in the year 1722, deſerves to be recorded in the annals of fame, for reſiſting the ſoftneſs and effeminacy of an Aſiatic court. Far [52] from abandoning himſelf to ſenſual pleaſure, he paſ⯑ſed ſeveral months yearly in the mountains of Tar⯑tary, moſtly on horſeback, and declining no fatigue. Nor in that ſituation were affairs of ſtate neglected: many hours he borrowed from ſleep, to hear his miniſters, and to iſſue orders. How few monarchs, bred up like Canghi in the downy indolence of a feraglio, have reſolution to withſtand the temptati⯑ons of ſenſual pleaſure!

In no other hiſtory is the influence of proſperity and opulence on manners ſo conſpicuous as in that of old Rome. During the ſecond Punic war, when the Romans were reduced by Hannibal to fight pro aris et focis, Hiero King of Syracuſe ſent to Rome a large quantity of corn, with a golden ſtatue of victory weighing three hundred and twenty pounds, which the ſenate accepted. But though their finances were at the loweſt ebb, they accepted but the lighteſt of forty golden vaſes preſented to them by the city of Naples; and politely returned, with many thanks, ſome golden vaſes ſent by the city of Paeſtum, in Lucania: A rare inſtance of magnani⯑mity! But no degree of virtue is proof againſt the corruption of conqueſt and opulence. Upon the infiux of Aſiatic riches and luxury, the Romans abandoned themſelves to every vice: they became in particular wonderfully avaricious, breaking thro' every reſtraint of juſtice and humanity^*. Spain in [53] particular, which abounded with gold and ſilver, was for many years a ſcene, not only of oppreſſion and cruelty, but of the baſeſt treachery, practiſed againſt the natives by ſucceſſive Roman generals in order to accumulate wealth. Lucullus, who after⯑ward made a capital figure in the Mithridatic war, attacked Cauca, a Celtiberian city, without the ſlighteſt provocation. Some of the principal citi⯑zens repaired to his camp with olive-branches, deſiring to be informed upon what conditions they could purchaſe his friendſhip. It was agreed, that they ſhould give hoſtages, with an hundred talents of ſilver. They alſo conſented to admit a garriſon of 2000 men, in order, as Lucullus pretended, to protect them againſt their enemies. But how were they protected? The gates were opened by the garriſon to the whole army; and the inhabitants were butchered, without diſtinction of ſex or age. What other remedy had they, but to invoke the gods preſiding over oaths and covenants, and to pour out execrations againſt the Romans for their perfidy? Lucullus, enriched with the ſpoils of the town, felt no remorſe for leaving 20,000 perſons dead upon the ſpot. Shortly after, having laid ſiege to Intercatia, he ſolicited a treaty of peace. The citizens, reproaching him with the ſlaughter of the Cauceans, aſked, whether, in making peace, he was not to employ the ſame right hand, and the ſame faith, he had already pledged to their country-men. Seroclius Galba, another Roman general, perſuaded the Luſitanians to lay down their arms, promiſing them a fruitful territory inſtead of their own mountains; and having thus got them into his [54] power, he ordered all of them to be murdered. Of the few that eſcaped Viriatus was one, who, in a long and bloody war againſt the Romans, amply avenged the maſſacre of his countrymen. Our au⯑thor Appian reports, that Galba, ſurpaſſing even Lucullus in covetouſneſs, diſtributed but a ſmall ſhare of the plunder among the ſoldiers, converting the bulk of it to his own uſe. He adds, that tho' Galba was one of the richeſt men in Rome, yet he never ſcrupled at lies nor perjury to procure money. But the corruption was general: Galba being ac⯑cuſed of many miſdemeanors, was acquitted by the ſenate through the force of bribes. A tribe of the Celtiberians, who had long ſerved the Romans againſt the Luſitanians, had an offer made them by Titus Didius of a territory in their neighbour⯑hood, lately conquered by him. He appointed them a day to receive poſſeſſion; and having in⯑cloſed them in his camp under ſhew of friendſhip, he put them all to the ſword; for which mighty deed he obtained the honour of a triumph. The double-dealing and treachery of the Romans, in their laſt war againſt Carthage, is beyond example. The Carthaginians, ſuſpecting that a ſtorm was gathering againſt them, ſent deputies to Rome for ſecuring peace at any rate. The ſenate, in ap⯑pearance, were diſpoſed to amicable meaſures, de⯑manding only hoſtages; and yet, though three hundred hoſtages were delivered without loſs of time, the Roman army landed at Utica. The Carthaginian deputies attended the conſuls there, deſiring to know what more was to be done on their part. They were required to deliver up their arms; which they chearfully did, imagining that they were now certain of peace. Inſtead of which, they received peremptory orders to evacuate the city, with their wives and children; and to take up no habitation within eighty furlongs of the ſea. In [55] peruſing Appian's hiſtory of that memorable event, compaſſion for the diſtreſſed Carthaginians is ſtifled by indignation at their treacherous oppreſſors. Durſt the monſters, after ſuch treachery, talk of Punica ſides? The profligacy of the Roman people, dur⯑ing the triumvirate of Caeſar, Pompey, and Craſſus, is painted in lively colours by the ſame author. ‘"For a long time, diſorder and confuſion overſpread the common-wealth: no office was obtained but by faction, bribery, or criminal ſervice: no man was aſhamed to buy votes, which were ſold in open market. One man there was, who, to obtain a lucrative office, expended eight hundred talentsⁱ: ill men enriched themſelves with public money, or with bribes: no honeſt man would ſtand candidate for an office; and into a ſituation ſo miſerable was the commonwealth reduced, that once for eight months it had not a ſingle magiſtrate."’ Cicero, writing to Atticus that Clodius was acquitted by the influence of Craſ⯑ſus, expreſſes himſelf in the following words. ‘"Biduo, per unum ſervum, et eum ex gladiato⯑rio ludo, confecit totum negotium. Accerſ [...]it ad ſe, promiſit, interceſſit, dedit. Jam vero, O dii boni, rem perditam! etiam noctes certarum mulierum, atque adoleſcentulorum nobilium, in⯑troductiones nonnullis judicibus pro mercedis cu⯑mulo ſuerunt^{* k}."’ Ptolomy King of Egypt [56] was dethroned by his ſubjects for tyranny. Having repaired to Rome for protection, he ſound means to poiſon the greater part of an hundred Egyptians, his accuſers, and to aſſaſſinate Dion, their chief. And yet theſe crimes, perpetrated in the heart of Rome, were ſuffered to paſs with impunity. But he had ſecured the leading men by bribery, and was protected by Pompey. The following inſtance is, it poſſible, ſtill more groſs: Ptolomy, King of Cyprus, had always been a faithful ally to the Ro⯑mans. But his gold, jewels, and precious move⯑ables, were a tempting bait to the avarice of Rome; and all was confiſcated by a decree of the people, without even a pretext. Money, procured by pro⯑fligacy, is not commonly hoarded up; and the Ro⯑mans were no leſs voluptuous than avaricious. Alex⯑ander ab Alexandro mentions the Fanian, Orchian, Didian, Oppian, Cornelian, Ancian, and Julian laws, for repreſſing luxury of dreſs and of eating, all of which proved ineffectual. He adds, that Ti⯑berius had it long at heart to contrive ſome effectual law againſt luxury, which now had ſurpaſſed all bounds; but that he found it impracticable to ſtem the tide. He concludes, that by tacit agreement among a corrupted people all ſumptuary laws were in effect abrogated; and that the Roman people, abandoning themſelves to vice, broke through every reſtraint of morality and religion^k. Tremble, O Britain, on the brink of a precipice! how little diſtant in rapacity from Roman ſenators are the leaders of thy people!

Riches produce another lamentable effect: they enervate the poſſeſſor, and degrade him into a cow⯑ard. He who commands the labour of others, who eats without hunger, and reſts without fatigue, be⯑comes feeble in mind, as well as in body, has no [57] confidence in his own abilities, and is reduced to flatter his enemies, becauſe he hath not courage to brave them.

Selfiſhneſs, among the rude and illiterate, is rough, blunt, and undiſguiſed. Selfiſhneſs, which, in an opulent kingdom, uſurps the place of patrio⯑tiſm, is ſmooth, refined, and covered with a veil. Pecuniary intereſt, a low object, muſt be covered with the thickeſt veil: ambition, leſs diſnonou⯑rable, is leſs covered: but delicacy, as to charac⯑ter and love of fame, is ſo honourable, that even the thinneſt veil is thought unneceſſary. Hiſtory juſtifies theſe obſervations. During the proſperity of Greece and Rome, when patriotiſm was the ruling paſſion, no man ever thought of employing a hoſtile wea⯑pon, but againſt the enemies of his country: ſwords were not worn during peace, nor do we ever read of a private duel. The frequency of duels, in modern times, is no ſlight ſymptom of degeneracy: regardleſs of our country, ſelfiſhneſs is exerted without diſguiſe, when reputation or character is in queſtion; and a nice ſenſe of ho⯑nour prompts revenge for every imagined affront, without regard to juſtice. How much more manly and patriotic was the behaviour of Themiſtocles, when inſulted by the Lacedemonian general, in de⯑liberating about the concerns of Greece! ‘"Strike,"’ ſays he, ‘"but firſt hear me."’

When a nation, formerly in a flouriſhing ſtate, is depreſſed by luxury and ſelfiſhneſs, what follows next? Let the Egyptians anſwer the queſtion. That unhappy people having, for many ages, been a prey to every barbarous invader, are now become effeminate, treacherous, cruel, and cor⯑rupted with every vice that debaſes humanity. A nation in its infancy, however ſavage, is ſuſceptible of every improvement; but a nation, worn out with age and diſeaſe, is ſuſceptible of no in prove⯑ment. [58] There is no remedy, but to let the na⯑tives die out, and to re-people the country with better men.

I fly from a ſcene ſo diſmal, to one that will give no pain. Light is intended by our Maker for action, and darkneſs for reſt. In the fourteenth century, the ſhops in Paris were opened at four in the morning: at preſent, a ſhopkeeper is ſcarce awake at ſeven. The King of France dined at eight in the morning, and retired to his bed-cham⯑ber at the ſame hour in the evening; an early hour at preſent for public amuſements. The Spaniards adhere to ancient cuſtoms^*. Their King, to this day, dines preciſely at noon, and ſups no leſs pre⯑ciſely at nine in the evening. During the reign of Henry VIII. faſhionable people in England break⯑faſted at ſeven in the morning, and dined at ten in the forenoon. In Elizabeth's time, the nobility, gentry, and ſtudents dined at eleven forenoon, and ſupped between five and ſix afternoon. In the reign of Charles II. four in the afternoon was the appointed hour for acting plays: at preſent, even dinner is at a later hour. The King of Yeman, the greateſt prince in Arabia Foelix, dines at nine in the morning, ſups at five after noon, and goes to reſt at eleven. From this ſhort ſpecimen it ap⯑pears, that the occupations of day-light commence gradually later and later; as if there was a ten⯑dency in polite nations of converting night into day, and day nto night. Nothing happens without a cauſe. Light diſpoſes to action, darkneſs to reſt: the diverſions of day are tournaments, hunting, racing, and ſuch like active exerciſes: the diverſi⯑ons of night are ſedentary; plays, cards, conver⯑ſation. Balls are of a mixed nature; partly active, [59] in dancing; partly ſedentary, in converſing. For⯑merly, active exerciſes prevailed among a robuſt and plain people: the milder pleaſures of ſociety prevail as manners refine. Hence it is, that candle⯑light amuſements are now faſhionable in France, and in other poliſhed countries: and when ſuch amuſements are much reliſhed, they baniſh the robuſt exerciſes of the field. Balls, I conjecture, were formerly more frequent in day-light: at pre⯑ſent, candle-light is their favourite time; the active part is, at that time, equally agreeable; and the fed ntary part much more ſo.

Gaming is the vice of idle people. Savages are addicted to gaming; and thoſe of North Ame⯑rica, in particular, are fond to diſtraction of a game termed the Platter. A loſing gameſter will ſtrip himſelf to the ſkin; and ſome have been known to ſtake their liberty, though by them valued above all other bleſſings. Negroes in the ſlave⯑coaſt of Guinea will ſtake their wives, their chil⯑dren, and even themſelves. Tacitus^l, talking of gaming among the Germans, ſays, ‘"Extremo ac noviſſimo jactu de libertate et de corpore con⯑tendant^*."’ The Greeks were an active and ſprightly people, conſtantly engaged in war, or in cultivating the ſine arts. They had no leiſure for gaming, nor any knowledge of it. Happy for them was their ignorance; for no other vice tends more to render men ſelfiſh, diſhoneſt, and, in the mo⯑diſh ſtyle, diſhonourable. A gameſter, a friend to no man, is a bitter enemy to himſelf. The luxu⯑rious of the preſent age paſs every hour in gam⯑ing, that can be ſpared from ſenſual pleaſure. Idle⯑neſs is their excuſe, as it is among ſavages; and [60] they would in ſome degree be excuſable, were they never actuated by a more diſgraceful mo⯑tive.

Writers do not carefully diſtinguiſh particular cuſtoms from general manners. Formerly, wo⯑men were not admitted upon the ſtage in France, Italy, or England. At that very time, none but women were admitted in Spain. From that faſhion it would be raſh to infer, that women have more liberty in Spain, than in the other countries men⯑tioned; for the contrary is true. In Hindoſtan, eſtabliſhed cuſtom prompts women to burn them⯑ſelves alive, with the bodies of their deceaſed huſ⯑bands; but from that ſingular cuſtom, it would be a falſe inference, that the Hindow women are ei⯑ther more bold, or more affectionate to their huſ⯑bands, than in other countries. The Polanders, even after they became Chriſtians in the thirteenth century, adhered to the cuſtoms of their forefa⯑thers, the Sarmatians; the killing, for example, infants born deformed, and men debilitated by age; which would betoken horrid barbarity, if it were not a ſingular cuſtom. Roman Catholics imagine, that there is no religion in England nor in Holland, becauſe, from a ſpirit of civil liberty, all ſects are there tolerated. The encouragement given to aſſaſſination in Italy, where every church is a ſanc⯑tuary, makes ſtrangers raſhly infer, that the Italians are all aſſaſſins. Writers ſometimes fall into an oppoſite miſtake, attributing to a particular nation, certain manners and cuſtoms common to all nations in one or other period of their progreſs. It is re⯑marked by Heraclides Ponticus, as peculiar to the Athamanes, that the men fed the flocks, and the women cultivated the ground. This has been the practice of all nations, in their progreſs from the ſhepherd-ſtate to that of huſbandry; and is at pre⯑ſent the practice among American ſavages. The [61] ſame author obſerves, as peculiar to the Celtae and Aphitaei, that they leave their doors open without hazard of theft. But that practice is common among all ſavages in the firſt ſtage of ſociety, before the uſe of money is known.

Hitherto there appears as great uniformity in the progreſs of manners, as can reaſonably be expected among ſo many different nations. There is one exception, extraordinary indeed, if true, which is, the manners of the Caledonians, deſcribed by Oſſi⯑an, manners ſo pure and refined, as ſcarce to be equalled in the moſt cultivated nations. Such manners, among a people in the firſt ſtage of ſociety, acquainted with no arts but hunting and making war, would, I acknowledge, be miracu⯑lous: and yet, to ſuppoſe all to be invented by an illiterate ſavage, ſeems little leſs miraculous. One, at firſt view, will, without heſitation, declare the whole a pure fiction; for how is it credible, that a people, rude at preſent, and illiterate, were, in the infancy of their ſociety, highly refined in ſen⯑timents and manners? And yet, upon a more ac⯑curate inſpection, many weighty conſiderations oc⯑cur to balance that opinion.

From a thouſand circumſtances it appears, that the works of Oſſian are not a late production. They are compoſed in an old dialect of the Celtic tongue; and as, till of late, they were known only in the Highlands of Scotland, the author muſt have been a Caledonian. The tranſlator^m ſaw, in the Iſle of Sky, the firſt four books of the poem Fingal, written in a fair hand, on vellum, and bearing date in the year 1403. The natives believe that poem to be very ancient: every perſon has paſſages of it by heart, tranſmitted by memory from their forefathers. Their dogs bear commonly the name of Luath, Bran, &c. mentioned in theſe poems, as our dogs [62] do of Pompey and Caeſar^*. Many other particu⯑lars might be mentioned; but theſe are ſufficient to evince, that the work muſt have exiſted at leaſt three or four centuries. And, taking that for granted, I proceed to certain conſiderations tending to evince, that the manners deſcribed in Oſſian were Caledonian manners, and not a pure fiction. And after peruſing with attention theſe conſidera⯑tions, I am not afraid, that even the moſt incredu⯑lous will continue altogether unſhaken.

It is a noted and well-founded obſervation, That manners are never painted to the life by any one to whom they are not familiar. It is not difficult to draw the outlines of imaginary manners; but to fill up the picture with all the variety of tints that manners aſſume in different ſituations, uniting all in one entire whole,—‘"hic labor, hoc opus eſt."’ Yet the manners here ſuppoſed to be invented, are delineated in a variety of incidents, of ſentiments, of images, and of alluſions, making one entire picture, without once deviating into the ſlighteſt incongruity. Every ſcene in Oſſian relates to hunting, to fighting, and to love, the ſole occu⯑pations of men, in the original ſtate of ſociety: there is not a ſingle image, ſimile, nor alluſion, but what is borrowed from that ſtate, without a jarring circumſtance. Suppoſing all to be mere invention, is it not amazing to find no mention of Highland Clans, nor of any name now in uſe? Is it not ſtill more amazing, that there is not the [63] ſlighteſt hint of the Chriſtian religion, not even in a metaphor or alluſion? Is it not equally amazing, that, in a work where deer's fleſh is frequently mentioned, and a curious method of roaſting it, there ſhould not be a word of fiſh as food, which is ſo common in later times? Very few High⯑landers know that their forefathers did not eat fiſh; and, ſuppoſing it to be known, it would re⯑quire attention more than human, never once to mention it. Can it be ſuppoſed, that a modern writer could be ſo conſtantly on his guard, as never to mention corn, nor cattle? In a ſtory ſo ſcanty of poetical images, the ſedentary life of a ſhepherd, and the induſtry of a huſbandman, would make a capital figure: the cloven foot would ſomewhere appear. And yet, in all the works of Oſſian, there is no mention of agriculture; and but a ſlight hint of a herd of cattle in one or two alluſi⯑ons. I willingly give all advantages to the unbe⯑liever. Suppoſing the author of Oſſian to be a late writer, embelliſhed with every refinement of mo⯑dern education: yet, even upon that ſuppoſition, he is a miracle, far from being equalled by any other author, ancient or modern.

But difficulties multiply, when it is taken into the account, that the poems of Oſſian have ex⯑iſted three or four centuries at leaſt. Our High⯑landers, at preſent, are rude and illiterate; and were, in fact, little better than ſavages, at the pe⯑riod mentioned. Now, to hold the manners de⯑ſcribed in that work to be imaginary, is, in effect, to hold, that they were invented by a Highland ſavage, acquainted with the rude manners of his country, but utterly unacquainted with every other ſyſtem of manners. From what ſource did he draw the refined manners ſo deliciouſly painted by him? Suppoſing him to have been a traveller, of which we have not the ſlighteſt hint, the manners, at [64] that period, of France, of Italy, and of other neighbouring nations, were little leſs barbarous than thoſe of his own country. I can diſcover no ſource, other than direct inſpiration. In a word, whoever ſeriouſly believes the manners of Oſſian to be fictitious, may well ſay, with the religious enthuſiaſt, ‘"Credo, quia impoſſibile eſt:"’ [I be⯑lieve it, becauſe it is impoſſible.]

But further: The uncommon talents of the au⯑thor of this work will chearfully be acknowledged by every reader of taſte: he certainly was a great maſter in his way. Now, whether the work be late, or compoſed four centuries ago, a man of ſuch talents inventing an hiſtorical fable, and laying the ſcene of action among ſavages in the hunter-ſtate, would naturally frame a ſyſtem of manners, the beſt ſuited, in his opinion, to that ſtate. What then could tempt him to adopt a ſyſtem of manners ſo oppoſite to any notion he could frame of ſavage manners? The abſurdity is ſo groſs, that we are forced, however reluctantly, to believe, that theſe manners are not fictitious; but, in reality, the man⯑ners of his country, coloured, perhaps, or a little heightened, according to the privilege of an epic poet. And, once admitting that fact, there can be no heſitation in aſcribing that work to Oſſian, ſon of Fingal, whoſe name it bears: we have no better evidence for the authors of ſeveral Greek and Roman books. Upon the ſame evidence we muſt believe, that Oſſian lived in the reign of the Emperor Caracalla, of whom frequent mention is made under the deſignation of Caracul the Great King; at which period the ſhepherd ſtate was ſcarce known in Caledonia, and huſbandry not at all. Had he lived ſo late as the twelfth century, when there were flocks and herds in that country, and ſome ſort of agriculture, a poet of genius, [65] ſuch as Oſſian undoubtedly was, would have drawn from theſe his fineſt images.

The foregoing conſiderations, I am perſuaded, would not fail to convert the moſt incredulous, were it not for a conſequence extremely impro⯑bable, that a people, little better at preſent than ſavages, were, in their primitive hunter-ſtate, highly refined; for ſuch Oſſian deſcribes them. And yet it is not leſs improbable, that ſuch man⯑ners ſhould be invented by an illiterate Highland bard. Let a man chuſe either ſide, the difficulty cannot be ſolved, but by a miracle. What ſhall we conclude upon the whole? for the mind cannot for ever remain in ſuſpenſe. As dry reaſoning has left us in a dilemma, taſte, perhaps, and feeling may extricate us. May not the caſe be here as in real painting? A portrait drawn from fancy may reſemble the human viſage; but ſuch peculiarity of countenance and expreſſion, as ſerves to diſtin⯑guiſh a certain perſon from every other, is always wanting. Preſent a portrait to a man of taſte, and he will be at no loſs to ſay, whether it be copied from the life, or be the product of fancy. If Oſſi⯑an paint from fancy, the cloven foot will appear: but if his portraits be complete, ſo as to expreſs every peculiarity of character, why ſhould we doubt of their being copied from life? In that view, the reader, I am hopeful, will not think his time thrown away in examining ſome of Oſſi⯑an's ſtriking pictures. I ſee not any other re⯑ſource.

Love of fame is painted by Oſſian as the ruling paſſion of his countrymen, the Caledonians. War⯑riors are every where deſcribed as eſteeming it their chief happineſs to be recorded in the ſongs of the bards: that feature is never wanting in any of Oſſian's heroes. Take the following inſtances: ‘"King of the roaring Strumon, ſaid the riſing joy [66] of Fingal, do I behold thee in arms after thy ſtrength has failed? Often hath Morni ſhone in battles, like the beam of the riſing ſun, when he diſperſes the ſtorms of the hill, and brings peace to the glittering fields. But why didſt thou not reſt in thine age? Thy renown is in the ſong: the people behold thee, and bleſs the departure of mighty Morniⁿ. Son of Fingal, he ſaid, why burns the ſoul of Gaul? My heart beats high: my ſteps are diſordered; and my hand trembles on my ſword. When I look toward the foe, my ſoul lightens before me, and I ſee their ſleeping hoſt. Tremble thus the ſouls of the valiant in battles of the ſpear? How would the ſoul of Morni riſe, if we ſhould ruſh on the foe! Our renown would grow in the ſong, and our ſteps be ſtately in the eye of the brave^{* o}."’

That a warrior has acquired his fame, is a con⯑ſolation in every diſtreſs: ‘"Carril, ſaid the King in ſecret, the ſtrength of Cuchullin fails. My days are with the years that are paſt; and no morning of mine ſhall ariſe. They ſhall ſeek me at Temora, but I ſhall not be found. Cor⯑mac will weep in his hall, and ſay, Where is Tura's chief? But my name is renowned, my [67] ſame in the ſong of bards. The youth will ſay in ſecret, 'O let me die as Cuchullin died: re⯑nown cloathed him like a robe; and the light of his fame is great.' Draw the arrow from my ſide; and lay Cuchullin below that oak. Place the ſhield of Caithbat near, that they may be⯑hold me amid the arms of my fathers^p."’ Fin⯑gal ſpeaks: ‘"Ullin, my aged bard, take the ſhip of the King. Carry Oſcar to Selma, and let the daughters of Morven weep. We ſhall fight in Erin for the race of fallen Cormac. The days of my years begin to fail: I feel the weak⯑neſs of my arm. My fathers bend from their clouds to receive their gray-hair'd ſon. But, Tremor! before I go hence, one beam of my fame ſhall riſe: in fame ſhall my days end, as my years begun: my life ſhall be one ſtream of light to other times^q."’ Oſſian ſpeaks: ‘"Did thy beauty laſt, O Ryno! ſtood the ſtrength of car-borne Oſcar^*! Fingal himſelf paſſed away, and the halls of his fathers have forgot his ſteps. And ſhalt thou remain, aged bard, when the mighty have failed? But my fame ſhall remain; and grow like the mighty oak of Morven, which lifts its broad head to the ſtorm, and rejoiceth in the courſe of the wind^r."’

The chief cauſe of affliction, when a young man is cut off in battle, is, his not having received [68] his fame: ‘"And [...]ell the ſwifteſt in the race, ſaid the King, the firſt to bend the bow? Thou ſcarce had been known to me; why did young Ryno fall? But ſleep thou ſoftly on Lena, Fin⯑gal ſhall ſoon behold thee. Soon ſhall my voice be heard no more, and my footſteps ceaſe to be ſeen. The bards will tell of Fingal's name: the ſtones will talk of me. But, Ryno! thou art low indeed, thou haſt not received thy ſame. Ullin, ſtrike the harp for Ryno; tell what the chief would have been. Farewel, thou firſt in every field. No more ſhall I direct thy dart. Thou that haſt been ſo fair; I behold thee not.—Farewel^t."’ ‘"Calthron ruſhed into the ſtream: I bounded forward on my ſpear: Teu⯑tha's race fell before us: night came rolling down. Dunthalmo reſted on a rock, amidſt an aged wood: the rage of his boſom burned againſt the car-borne Calthron. But Calthron ſtood in his grief; he mourned the fallen Colmar; Colmar ſlain in youth, before his fame aroſe^u."’ Lamentation for loſs of fame. Cuchullin ſpeaks: ‘"But, O ye ghoſts of the lonely Cromla! ye ſouls of chiefs that are no more! be ye the compani⯑ons of Cuchullin, and talk to him in the cave of his ſorrow. For never more ſhall I be renown⯑ed among the mighty in the land. I am like a beam that has ſhone; like a miſt that has fled away when the blaſt of the morning came, and brightened the ſhaggy ſide of the hill. Connal, talk of arms no more: departed is my fame. My ſighs ſhall be on Cromla's wind, till my footſteps ceaſe to be ſeen. And thou, white⯑boſom'd Brag [...]la, mourn over the fall of my [69] fame; for, vanquiſhed, never will I return to thee, thou ſun-beam of Dunſcaich^x."’

Love of fame begets heroic actions, which go hand in hand with elevated ſentiments: of the for⯑mer there are examples in every page: of the latter take the following examples: ‘"And let him come, replied the King. I love a ſoe like Ca [...]hmor: his ſoul is great; his arm ſtrong; and his battles full of fame. But the little ſoul is like a vapour that hovers round the marſhy lake, which never riſes on the green hill, left the winds meet it there^y."’ Oſſian ſpeaks: ‘"But let us fly, ſon of Morni, Lathmor deſcends the hill. Then let our ſteps be ſlow, replied the fair-hair'd Gaul, leſt the ſoe ſay with a ſmile, Behold the warriors of night: they are like ghoſts, terrible in darkneſs; but they melt away before the beam of the Eaſt^z."’ ‘"Son of the feeble hand, ſaid Lathmon, ſhall my hoſt deſcend! They are but two, and ſhall a thouſand lift their ſteel! Nuah would mourn in his hall for the de⯑parture of Lathmon's fame: his eyes would turn from Lathmon, when the tread of his feet approached. Go thou to the heroes, ſon of Dutha, for I behold the ſtately ſteps of Oſſian. His fame is worthy of my ſteel: let him fight with Lathmon^a."’ ‘"Fingal doth not delight in battle, tho' his arm is ſtrong. My renown grows on the fall of the haughty: the lightning of my ſteel pours on the proud in arms. The battle comes; and the tombs of the valiant riſe; the tombs of my people riſe, O my fathers! and I at laſt muſt remain alone. But I will [70] remain renowned, and the departure of my ſoul ſhall be one ſtream of light^b."’ ‘"I raiſed my voice for Favor-gormo, when they laid their chief in earth. The aged Crothar was there, but his ſigh was not heard. He ſearched for the wound of his ſon, and found it in his breaſt: joy roſe in the face of the aged: he came and ſpoke to Oſſian: King of ſpears, my ſon hath not fallen without his fame: the young warrior did not fly, but met death as he went for⯑ward in his ſtrength. Happy are they who die in youth, when their renown is heard: their memory ſhall be honoured in the ſong; the young tear of the virgin falls^c."’ ‘"Cuchullin kindled at the fight, and darkneſs gathered on his brow. His hand was on the ſword of his fathers: his red-rolling eye on the foe. He thrice attempted to ruſh to battle, and thrice did Connal ſtop him. Chief of the Iſle of Miſt, he ſaid, Fingal ſubdues the foe: ſeek not a part of the fame of the King^d."’

The pictures that Oſſian draws of his country⯑men are no leſs remarkable for tender ſentiments, than for elevation. Parental affection is finely touched in the following paſſage: ‘"Son of Comhal, replied the chief, the ſtrength of Morni's arm hath failed. I attempt to draw the ſword of my youth, but it remains in his place: I throw the ſpear, but it falls ſhort of the mark; and I feel the weight of my ſhield. We decay like the graſs of the mountain, and our ſtrength returns no more. I have a ſon, O Fingal! his ſoul has delighted in the actions of Morni's youth; but his ſword has not been lifted againſt the foe, [71] neither has his ſame begun. I come with him to battle, to direct his arm. His renown will be a ſun to my ſoul, in the dark hour of my de⯑parture. O that the name of Morni were forgot among the people, that the heroes would only ſay, Behold the father of Gaul^e."’ And no leſs finely touched is grief for the loſs of children: ‘"We ſaw Oſcar leaning on his ſhield: we ſaw his blood around. Silence darkened on the face of every hero: each turned his back and wept. The King ſtrove to hide his tears. He bends his head over his ſon; and his words are mixed with ſighs. And art thou fallen, Oſcar, in the midſt of thy courſe! The heart of the aged beats over thee. I ſee thy coming battles: I behold the battles that ought to come, but they are cut off from thy fame. When ſhall joy dwell at Selma? when ſhall the ſong of grief ceaſe on Morven? My ſons fall by degrees, Fingal will be the laſt of his race. The fame I have received ſhall paſs away: my age ſhall be without friends. I ſhall ſit like a grey cloud in my hall: nor ſhall I expect the return of a ſon with his ſounding arms. Weep, ye heroes of Morven; never more will Oſcar riſe^g."’ Crothar ſpeaks: ‘"Son of Fingal! doſt thou not behold the darkneſs of Crothar's hall of ſhells? My ſoul was not dark at the feaſt, when my people lived. I rejoiced in the preſence of ſtran⯑gers, when my ſon ſhone in the hall. But, Oſſian, he is a beam that is departed, and left no ſtreak of light behind. He is fallen, ſon of Fingal, in the battles of his father.—Rothmar, the chief of graſſy Tromlo, heard that my eyes had failed; he heard, that my [72] arms were fixed in the hall, and the pride of his ſoul aroſe. He came toward Croma; my people ſell before him. I took my arms in the hall; but whta could ſightleſs Crothar do? My ſteps were unequal; my grief was great. I wiſhed for the days that were paſt, days wherein I fought and won in the field of blood. My ſon returned from the chace, the fair-hair'd Fovar⯑gormo. He had not liſted his ſword in battle, for his arm was young. But the ſoul of the youth was great; the fire of valour burnt in his eyes. He ſaw the diſordered ſteps of his father, and his ſigh aroſe. King of Croma, he ſaid, is it becauſe thou haſt no ſon; is it for the weak⯑neſs of Fovar-gormo's arm that thy ſighs ariſe? I begin, my father, to feel the ſtrength of my arm; I have drawn the ſword of my youth; and I have bent the bow. Let me meet this Roth⯑mar with the youths of Croma: let me meet him, O my father; for I feel my burning ſoul, and thou ſhalt meet him, I ſaid, ſon of the ſight⯑leſs Crothar! But let others advance before thee, that I may hear the tread of thy feet at thy return; for my eyes behold thee not, fair-haired Fovar-gormo!—He went, he met the foe; he ſell. The foe advances toward Croma. He who ſlew my ſon is near, with all his pointed ſpears^h."’

The following ſentiments, about the ſhortneſs of human life, are pathetic: ‘"Deſolate is the dwell⯑ing of Moina, ſilence in the houſe of her fathers. Raiſe the ſong of mourning over the ſtrangers. One day we muſt fall; and they have only fallen before us.—Why doſt thou build the hall, ſon of the winged days! Thou lookeſt from thy towers to-day: ſoon will the blaſt of the de⯑ſert [73] ſert come. It howls in thy empty court, and whiſtles over thy half-worn ſhieldⁱ."’ ‘"How long ſhall we weep on Lena, or pour our tears in Ullin! The mighty will not return; nor Oſcar riſe in his ſtrength: the valiant muſt fall one day, and be no more known. Where are our fathers, O warriors, the chiefs of the times of old! They are ſet, like ſtars that have ſhone: we only hear the ſound of their praiſe. But they were renowned in their day, and the ter⯑ror of other times. Thus ſhall we paſs, O warriors, in the day of our fall. Then let us be renowned while we may; and leave our ſame behind us, like the laſt beams of the ſun, when he hides his red head in the weſt^k."’

In Homer's time heroes were greedy of plunder, and, like robbers, were much diſpoſed to inſult a vanquiſhed foe. According to Oſſian, the ancient Caledonians had no idea of plunder: and, as they fought for ſame only, their humanity over [...] ⯑ed to the vanquiſhed. American ſavages, it is true, are not addicted to plunder, and are ready to beſtow on the firſt comer what trifles they force from the enemy. But they had no notion of a pitched battle, nor of ſingle combat: on the con⯑trary, they value themſelves upon ſlaughtering their enemies by ſurpriſe, without riſking their own ſweet perſons. Agreeable to the magnanimous character given by Oſſian of his countrymen, we find humanity blended with courage in all their actions. ‘"Fingal pitied the white-armed maid: he ſtayed the uplifted ſword. The tear was in the eye of the King, as bending forward he ſpoke: King of ſtreamy Sora, fear not the ſword of Fingal: it was never ſtained with he blood [74] of the vanquiſhed; it never pierced a fallen foe. Let thy people rejoice along the blue waters of Tora: let the maids of thy love be glad. Why ſhould'ſt thou fall in thy youth, King of ſtreamy Sora^l!"’ Fingal ſpeaks: ‘"Son of my ſtrength, he ſaid, take the ſpear of Fingal: go to Teutha's mighty ſtream, and ſave the car⯑borne Colmar. Let thy fame return before thee like a pleaſant gale: that my ſoul may rejoice over my ſon, who renews the renown of our fathers. Oſſian! be thou a ſtorm in battle, but mild where thy foes are low. It was thus my ſame aroſe, O my ſon; and be thou like Selma's chief. When the haughty come to my hall, my eyes behold them not; but my arm is ſtretched forth to the unhappy, my ſword defends the weak^m."’ ‘"O Oſcar! bend the ſtrong in arm, but ſpare the feeble hand. Be thou a ſtream of many tides againſt the foes of thy people, but like the gale that moves the graſs to thoſe who aſk thy aid. Never ſearch for the battle, nor ſhun it when it comes. So Trenmor lived; ſuch Trathal was; and ſuch has Fingal been. My arm was the ſupport of the injured; and the weak reſted behind the lightning of my ſteelⁿ."’

Humanity to the vanquiſhed is diſplayed in the following paſſages. After deſeating in battle Swa⯑ran, King of Lochlin, Fingal ſays, ‘"Raiſe, Ullin, raiſe the ſong of peace, and ſooth my ſoul after battle, that my ear may forget the noiſe of arms. And let an hundred harps be near, to gladden the King of Lochlin: he muſt depart from us with joy; none ever went ſad from Fin⯑gal. [75] Oſcar, the lightning of my ſword is againſt the ſtrong; but peaceful it hangs by my ſide when warriors yield in battle^o."’ ‘"Uthal fell beneath my ſword, and the ſons of Berrathon ſled. It was then I ſaw him in his beauty, and the tear hung in my eye. Thou art fallen, young tree, I ſaid, with all thy budding beauties round thee. The winds come from the deſert, and there is no ſound in thy leaves. Lovely art thou in death, ſon of car-borne Lath⯑mor^p."’

After the ſcenes above exhibited, it will not be thought that Oſſian deviates from the manners re⯑preſented by him, in deſcribing the hoſpitality of his chieftains: ‘"We heard the voice of joy on the coaſt, and we thought that the mighty Cathmor came; Cathmor, the friend of ſtrangers, the brother of red-hair'd Cairbar. But their ſouls were not the ſame; for the light of heaven was in the boſom of Cathmor. His towers roſe on the banks of Atha: ſeven paths led to his hall▪ ſeven chiefs ſtood on theſe paths, and called the ſtranger to the feaſt. But Cathmor dwelt in the wood, to avoid the voice of praiſe^q."’ ‘"Rath⯑mor was a chief of Clutha. The feeble dwelt in his hall. The gates of Rathmor were never cloſed: his feaſt was always ſpread. The ſons of the ſtranger came, and bleſſed the generous chief of Clutha. Bards raiſed the ſong, and touched the harp▪ joy brightened on the face of the mournful. Dunthalmo came in his pride, and ruſhed into combat with Rathmor. The chief of Clutha overcame. The rage of Dun⯑thalmo roſe: he came by night with his war⯑riors; [76] and the mighty Rathmor ſell: he ſell in his hall, where his feaſt had been often ſpread for ſtrangers^r."’ It ſeems not to exceed the magnanimity of his chieftains, intent upon glory only, to feaſt even their enemies before a battle. Cuchullin, after the firſt day's engagement with Swaran, King of Lochlin or Scandinavia, ſays to Carril, one of his bards, ‘"Is this feaſt ſpread for me alone, and the [...]ing of Lochlin on Ullin's ſhore; far from the deer of his hills, and ſounding halls of his feaſts? Riſe, Carril of other times, and carry my words to Swaran; tell him from the roaring of waters, that Cuchullin gives his feaſt. Here let him liſten to the ſound of my groves amid the clouds of night: for cold and bleak the bluſtering winds ruſh over the foam of his ſeas. Here let him praiſe the trembling harp, and hear the ſongs of heroes^s."’ The Scan⯑dinavian King, leſs poliſhed, refuſed the invitation. Cairbar ſpeaks: ‘"Spread the feaſt on Lena, and let my hundred bards attend. And thou, red⯑hair'd Olla, take the harp of the King. Go to Oſcar, King of Swords, and bid him to our feaſt. To-day we feaſt and hear the ſong; to⯑morrow break the ſpears^t."’ ‘"Olla came with his ſongs. Oſcar went to Cairbar's feaſt. Three hundred heroes attend the chief, and the clang of their arms is terrible. The gray dogs bound on the heath, and their howling is fre⯑quent. Fingal ſaw the departure of the hero: the ſoul of the King was ſad. He dreads the gloomy Cairbar: but who of the race of Tren⯑mor fears the foe^u?"’

[77] Cruelty is every where condemned as an infa⯑mous vice. Speaking of the bards, ‘"Cairbar ſeared to ſtretch his ſword to the bards, tho' his ſoul was dark; but he cloſed us in the midſt of darkneſs. Three days we pined alone: on the fourth, the noble Cathmor came. He heard our voice from the cave, and turned the eye of his wrath on Cairbar. Chief of Atha, he ſaid, how long wilt thou pain my ſoul? Thy heart is like the rock of the deſert, and thy thoughts are dark. But thou art the brother of Cathmor, and he will fight thy battles. Cathmor's ſoul is not like thine, thou feeble hand of war. The light of my boſom is ſtain⯑ed with thy deeds. The balds will not ſing of my renown; they may ſay, Cathmor was brave, but he fought for gloomy Cairbar: they will paſs over my tomb in ſilence, and my ſame ſhall not be heard. Cairbar, looſe the bards; they are the ſons of other times; their voice ſhall be heard in other ages, when the Kings of Temora have ſailed^x."’ ‘"Ullin raiſ'd his white ſails: the wind of the ſouth came forth. He bounded on the waves to⯑ward Selma's walls. The feaſt is ſpread on Le⯑na: an hundred heroes reared the tomb of Cair⯑bar; but no ſong is raiſed over the chief, for his ſoul had been dark and bloody. We remem⯑bered the fall of Cormac; and what could we ſay in Cairbar's praiſe^y?"’

Genuine manners never were repreſented more to the the life by a Tacitus nor a Shakeſpear. Such painting is above the reach of pure in⯑vention, and muſt be the work of knowledge and ſeeling.

[78] One may diſcover the manners of a nation from the figure their women make. Among ſavages, women are treated like ſlaves; and they acquire not the dignity that belongs to the ſex, till manners be conſiderably refined. According to the man⯑ners above deſcribed, women ought to have made a conſiderable figure among the ancient Caledoni⯑ans. Let us examine Oſſian upon that ſubject, in order to judge whether he carries on the ſame tone of manners to every particular. That women were highly regarded appears from the following paſſages: ‘"Daughter of the hand of ſnow! I was not ſo mournful and blind, I was not ſo dark and forlorn, when Everallin loved me, Everallin with the dark-brown hair, the white-boſomed love of Cormac. A thouſand heroes ſought the maid, ſhe denied her love to a thouſand; the ſons of the ſword were deſpiſed; for graceful in her eyes was Oſſian. I went in ſuit of the maid to Lego's ſable ſurge; twelve of my people were there, ſons of the ſtreamy Morven. We came to Branno, friend of ſtran⯑gers, Branno of the ſounding mail.—From whence, he ſaid, are the arms of ſteel? Not eaſy to win is the maid that has denied the blue⯑eyed ſons of Erin. But bleſt be thou, O ſon of Fingal, happy is the maid that waits thee. Tho' twelve daughters of beauty were mine, thine were the choice, thou ſon of fame! Then he opened the hall of the maid, the dark-hair'd Everallin. Joy kindled in our breaſts of ſteel, and bleſt the maid of Branno^z."’ ‘"Now Connal, on Cromla's windy ſide, ſpoke to the chief of the noble car. Why that gloom, ſon of Semo? Our friends are the mighty in battle. And renowned art thou, O warrior! many [79] were the deaths of thy ſteel. Often has Bra⯑gela met thee with blue-rolling eyes of joy; often has ſhe met her hero returning in the midſt of the valiant, when his ſword was red with ſlaughter, and his foes ſilent in the field of the tomb. Pleaſant to her ears were thy bards, when thine actions roſe in the ſong^a."’ ‘"But, King of Morven, if I ſhall fall, as one time the warrior muſt fall, raiſe my tomb in the midſt, and let it be the greateſt on Lena. And ſend over the dark-blue wave the ſword of Orla, to the ſpouſe of his love; that ſhe may ſhow it to her ſon, with tears, to kindle his ſoul to war^b."’ ‘"I lifted my eyes to Cromla, and I ſaw the ſon of generous Semo.—Sad and ſlow he retired from his hill toward the lonely cave of Tura. He ſaw Fingal victorious, and mix⯑ed his joy with grief. The ſon is bright on his armour, and Connal ſlowly followed. They ſunk behind the hill, like two pillars of the fire of night, when winds purſue them over the mountain, and the flaming heath reſounds. Beſide a ſtream of roaring foam, his cave is in a rock. One tree bends above it; and the ruſhing winds echo againſt its ſides. There reſts the chief of Dunſcaich, the ſon of gene⯑rous Semo. His thoughts are on the battles he loſt; and the tear is on his cheek. He mourned the departure of his fame, that fled like the miſt of Cona. O Bragela, thou art too far remote to cheer the ſoul of the hero. But let him ſee thy bright form in his ſoul; that his thoughts may return to the lonely ſun-beam of Dunſ⯑caich^c."’ ‘"Oſſian, King of ſwords, replied [80] the bard, thou beſt raiſeſt the ſong. Long haſt thou been known to Carril, thou ruler of battles. Often have I touched the harp to lovely Everal⯑lin. Thou, too, haſt often accompanied my voice in Branno's hall of ſhells. And often amidſt our voices was heard the mildeſt Everallin. One day ſhe ſung of Cormac's fall, the youth that died for her love. I ſaw the tears on her cheek, and on thine, thou chief of men. Her ſoul was touched for the unhappy, though ſhe loved him not. How fair, among a thouſand maids, was the daughter of the generous Branno^d!"’ ‘"It was in the days of peace, replied the great Cleſ⯑ſammor, I came in my bounding ſhip to Balclu⯑tha's walls of towers. The winds had roared behind my ſails, and Clutha's ſtreams received my dark-boſomed veſſel. Three days I remain⯑ed in Reuthamir's halls, and ſaw that beam of light, his daughter. The joy of the ſhell went round, and the aged hero gave the fair. Her breaſts were like foam on the wave, and her eyes like ſtars of light: her hair was dark as the ra⯑ven's wing: her ſoul was generous and mild. My love for Moina was great: and my heart poured forth in joy^e."’ ‘"The fame of Oſſian ſhall riſe: his deeds ſhall be like his father's. Let us ruſh in our arms, ſon of Morni, let us ruſh to battle. Gaul, if thou ſhalt return, go to Selma's lofty hall. Tell Everallin that I [...]ell with [...]ame: carry the ſword to Branno's daugh⯑ter: let her give it to Oſcar when the years of his youth ſhall ariſe^f."’

Next to war, love makes the principal figure: and well it may; for in Oſſian's poems it breathes [81] every thing ſweet, tender, and elevated. ‘"On Lubar's graſſy banks they ſought; and Grudar fell. Fierce Cairbar came to the vale of the echoing Tura, where Braſſolis, faireſt of his ſiſters, all alone raiſed the ſong of grief. She ſung the actions of Grudar, the youth of her ſecret ſoul: ſhe mourned him in the field of blood; but ſtill ſhe hoped his return. Her white boſom is ſeen from her robe, as the moon from the clouds of night: her voice was ſofter than the harp, to raiſe the ſong of grief: her ſoul was fixed on Grudar, the ſecret look of her eye was his;—when wilt thou come in thine arms, thou mighty in the war? Take, Braſſolis, Cairbar ſaid, take this ſhield of blood: fix it on high within my hall, the armour of my foe. Her ſoft heart beat againſt her ſide: diſtracted, pale, ſhe flew, and found her youth in his blood.—She died on Cromla's heath. Here reſts their duſt, Cuchullin; and theſe two lonely yews, ſprung from their tombs, wiſh to meet on high. Fair was Braſſolis on the plain, and Grudar on the hill. The bard ſhall preſerve their names, and repeat them to future times^g."’ ‘"Pleaſant is thy voice, O Carril, ſaid the blue-eyed chief of Erin; and lovely are the words of other times: they are like the calm ſhower of ſpring, when the ſun looks on the field, and the light cloud flies over the hill. O ſtrike the harp in praiſe of my love, the lonely ſunbeam of Duſcaich: ſtrike the harp in praiſe of Bragela, whom I left in the iſle of miſt, the ſpouſe of Semo's ſon. Doſt thou raiſe thy fair face from the rock to find the ſails of Cuchullin? the ſea is rolling far diſtant, and its white foam will deceive thee for my ſails. Re⯑tire, my love, for it is night, and the dark winds [82] ſigh in thy hair: retire to the hall of my feaſts, and think of times that are paſt; for I will not return till the ſtorm of war ceaſe.—O Connal, ſpeak of war and arms, and ſend her from my mind; for lovely with her raven-hair is the white-boſomed daughter of Sorglan^h."’ Mal⯑vina ſpeaks. ‘"But thou dwelleſt in the ſoul of Malvina, ſon of mighty Oſſian. My ſighs ariſe with the beam of the eaſt, my tears deſcend with the drops of night. I was a lovely tree in thy preſence, Oſcar, with all my branches round me; but thy death came like a blaſt from the deſert, and laid my green head low: the ſpring returned with its ſhowers, but of me not a leaf ſprung. The virgins ſaw me ſilent in the hall, and they touched the harp of joy. The tear was on the cheek of Malvina, and the virgins beheld my grief. Why art thou ſad, they ſaid, thou firſt of the maids of Lutha? Was he lovely as the beam of the morning, and ſtately in thy ſightⁱ?"’ ‘"Fingal came in his mildneſs, rejoicing in ſecret over the actions of his ſon. Morni's face brightened with gladneſs, and his aged eyes looked faintly through tears of joy. We came to the halls of Selma, and ſat round the feaſt of ſhells. The maids of the ſong came into our preſence, and the mildly-bluſhing Everallin. Her dark hair ſpreads on her neck of ſnow, her eye rolls in ſecret on Oſſian. She touches the harp of muſic, and we bleſs the daughter of Branno^k".’

Had the Caledonians made ſlaves of their wo⯑men, and thought as meanly of them as ſavages commonly do, it could never have entered the ima⯑gination of Oſſian to aſcribe to them thoſe num⯑berleſs [83] graces that exalt the female ſex, and render many of them objects of pure and elevated affection. Without the aid of inſpiration, ſuch refined man⯑ners could never have been conceived by a ſavage. I ſay more: Suppoſing a ſavage to have been di⯑vinely inſpired, manners ſo inconſiſtent with their own would not have been reliſhed, not even com⯑prehended, by his countrymen. And yet that they were highly reliſhed is certain, having been univer⯑ſally diffuſed among all ranks, and preſerved for many ages by memory alone, without writing. Here the argument mentioned above ſtrikes with double force, to evince, that the manners of the Caledonians muſt have been really ſuch as Oſſian deſcribes.

Catharina Alexowna, Empreſs of Ruſſia, pro⯑moted aſſemblies of men and women, as a means to poliſh the manners of her ſubjects. And in order to preſerve decency in ſuch aſſemblies, ſhe publiſh⯑ed a body of regulations, of which the following are a ſpecimen. ‘"Ladies who play at forfeitures, queſtions and commands, &c. ſhall not be noiſy nor riotous. No gentleman muſt attempt to force a kiſs, nor ſtrike a woman in the aſſembly, under pain of excluſion. Ladies are not to get drunk upon any pretext whatever; nor gentle⯑men before nine."’ Compare the manners that required ſuch regulations with thoſe deſcribed above. Can we ſuppoſe, that the ladies and gentlemen of Oſſian's poems ever amuſed themſelves, after the age of twelve, with hide and ſeek, queſtions and commands, or ſuch childiſh play? Can it enter in⯑to our thoughts, that Bragéla or Malvina were ſo often drunk, as to require the reprimand of a pub⯑lic regulation? or that any hero of Oſſian ever ſtruck a woman of faſhion in ire?

[84] The immortality of the ſoul was a capital article in the Celtic creed, inculated by the Druids^l. And in Valerius Maximus we find the following paſſage. ‘"Gallos, memoriae proditum eſt, pecu⯑nias mutuas, quae ſibi apud inferos redderentur, dare: quia perſuaſum habuerint, animas homi⯑num immortales eſſe. Dicerem ſtultos, niſi idem braccati ſenſiſſent quod palliatus Pythagoras ſen⯑ſit^{* m}."’ All ſavages have an impreſſion of im⯑mortality; but few, even of the moſt enlightened before Chriſtianity prevailed, had the leaſt notion of any occupations in another life, but what they were accuſtomed to in this. Even Virgil, with all his poetical invention, finds no amuſements for his departed herces, but what they were fond of when alive; the ſame love for war, the ſame taſte for hunting, and the ſame affection to their friends. As we have no reaſon to expect more invention in Oſſian, the obſervation may ſerve as a key to the ghoſts introduced by him, and to his whole machi⯑nery, as termed by critics. His deſcription of theſe ghoſts is copied plainly from the creed of his country.

In an hiſtorical account of the progreſs of man⯑ners, it would argue groſs inſenſibility to overlock thoſe above mentioned. The ſubject, it is true, has ſweiled upon my hands beyond expectation; but it is not a little intereſting. If theſe manners be genuine, they are a ſingular phenomenon in the [85] Hiſtory of Man: if they be the invention of an illiterate bard, among ſavages utterly ignorant of ſuch manners, the phenomenon is no leſs ſingular. Let either ſide be taken, and a ſort of miracle muſt be admitted. In the Inſtances above given, ſuch a beautiful mixture there is of ſimplicity and dignity, and ſo much life given to the manners deſcribed, that real manners were never repreſented with a more ſtriking appearance of truth. If theſe man⯑ners be fictitious, I ſay again, that the author muſt have been inſpired: they plainly exceed the inven⯑tion of a ſavage; nay, they exceed the invention of any known writer. Every man will judge for himſelf: it is perhaps fondneſs for ſuch refined manners, that makes me incline to reality againſt fiction.

I am aware at the ſame time, that manners ſo pure and elevated, in the firſt ſtage of ſociety, are difficult to be accounted for. The Caledonians were not an original tribe, to found a ſuppoſition that they might have manners peculiar to them⯑ſelves: they were a branch of the Celtae, and had a language common to them with the inhabitants of Gaul, and of England. The manners probably of all were the ſame, or nearly ſo; and if we expect any light for explaining Caledonian manners, it muſt be from that quarter: we have indeed no other reſource. Diodorus Siculusⁿ reports of the Celtae, that, though warlike, they were upright in their dealings, and far removed from deceit and duplicity. Caeſar^o, ‘"Galli homines aperti mi⯑nimeque in [...]idioſi, qui per virtutem, non per do⯑lum, dimicare conſueverunt^*."’ And though [86] cruel to their enemies, yet Pomponius Mela^p obſerves, that they were kind and compaſſionate to the ſupplicant and unfortunate. Strabo^q deſcribes the Gauls as ſtudious of war, and of great alacrity in fighting; otherwiſe an innocent people, altoge⯑ther void of malignity. He ſays, that they had three orders of men, bards, prieſts, and druids; that the province of the bards was to ſtudy poetry, and to compoſe ſongs in praiſe of their deceaſed heroes; that the prieſts preſided over divine wor⯑ſhip; and that the druids, beſide ſtudying moral and natural philoſophy, determined all controver⯑ſies, and had ſome direction even in war. Caeſar, leſs attentive to civil matters, comprehends theſe three orders under the name of druids; and ob⯑ſerves, that the druids teach their diſciples a vaſt number of verſes, which they muſt get by heart. Diodorus Siculus ſays, that the Gauls had poets termed bards, who ſung airs accompanied with the harp, in praiſe of ſome, and diſpraiſe of others. Lucan, ſpeaking of the three orders, ſays,

With reſpect to the Celtic women in particular, it is agreed by all writers, that they were extremely [87] beautiful^r. They were no leſs remarkable for ſpirit than for beauty. If we can rely on Diodorus Siculus, the women in Gaul equalled the men in courage. Tacitus, in his life of Agricola, ſays, that the Britiſh women frequently joined with the men, when attacked by an enemy. And ſo much were they regarded, as to be thought capable of the higheſt command. ‘"Neque enim ſexum in imperiis diſcernunt^*,"’ ſays the ſame author^s. And accordingly, during the war carried on by Ca⯑ractacus, a gallant Britiſh King, againſt the Ro⯑mans, Cartiſmandua was Queen of the Brigantes. Boadicea is recorded in Roman annals as a queen of a warlike ſpirit. She led on a great army againſt the Romans; and in exhorting her people to be⯑have with courage, ſhe obſerved, that it was not unuſual to ſee a Britiſh army led on to battle by a woman; to which Tacitus adds his teſtmony: ‘"Solitum quidem Britannis foeminarum ductu bel⯑lare^{† t}."’ No wonder that Celtic women, ſo amply provided with ſpirit, as well as beauty, made a capital figure in every public entertainment^u.

The Gallic Celtae undoubtedly carried with them their manners and cuſtoms to Britain, and ſpread them gradually from ſouth to north. And as the Caledonians, inhabiting a mountainous country in the northern parts of the iſland, had little commerce with other nations, they preſerved long in purity many Celtic cuſtoms, particularly that of retaining [88] bards. All the chieftains had bards in their pay, whoſe province it was to compoſe ſongs in praiſe of their anceſtors, and to accompany thoſe ſongs with the harp. This entertainment enflamed their love for war, and at the ſame time ſoftened their man⯑ners, which, as Strabo reports, were naturally in⯑nocent and void of malignity. It had beſide a won⯑derful influence in forming virtuous manners: the bards, in praiſing deceaſed heroes, would naturally ſelect virtuous actions, which make the beſt figure in heroic poetry, and tend the moſt to illuſtrate the hero of their ſong: vice may be flattered; but praiſe is never willingly nor ſucceſsfully beſtowed upon any atchievement but what is virtuous and heroic. It is accordingly obſerved by Ammianus Marcellinus^x, that the bards inculcated in their ſongs virtue and actions worthy of praiſe. The bards, who were in high eſtimation, became great proficients in poetry; of which we have a conſpi⯑cuous inſtance in the works of Oſſian. Their capi⯑tal compoſitions were diligently ſtudied by thoſe of their own order, and much admired by all. The ſongs of the bards, accompanied with the harp, made a deep impreſſion on the young warrior, ele⯑vated ſome into heroes, and promoted virtue in every hearer^*. Another circumſtance concurred to form Caledonian manners, common to them with every nation in the firſt ſtage of ſociety; which is, [89] that avarice was unknown among them. People in that ſtage, ignorant of habitual wants, and having a ready ſupply of all that nature requires, have lit⯑tle notion of property, and not the ſlighteſt notion of accumulating the goods of fortune; and for that reaſon are always found honeſt and diſintereſted. With reſpect to the female ſex, who make an illuſtrious figure in Oſſian's poems, if they were ſo eminent both for courage and beauty as they are repreſented by the beſt authors, it is no wonder that they are painted by Oſſian as objects of love the moſt pure and refined. Nor ought it to be over⯑looked, that the ſoft and delicate notes of the harp have a tendency to purify manners, and to refine love.

Whether the cauſes here aſſigned of Celtic man⯑ners be fully adequate may well admit of a doubt; but if authentic hiſtory be relied on, we can enter⯑tain no doubt, that the manners of the Gallic and Britiſh Celiae, including the Caledonians, were ſuch as are above deſcribed. And as the manners aſcribed by Oſſian to his conntrymen the Caledoni⯑ans, are in every particular conformable to thoſe now mentioned, it clearly follows, that Oſſian was no inventor, but drew his pictures of manners from real life. This is made highly probable from in⯑trinſic evidence, the ſame that is ſo copiouſly urged above: and now by authentic hiſtory that probabi⯑lity is ſo much heightened as ſcarce to leave room for a doubt.

Our preſent highlanders are but a ſmall part of the inhabitants of Britain; and they have been ſinking in their importance, from the time that arts and ſciences made a figure, and peaceable manners pre⯑vailed. And yet in that people are diſcernible ma⯑ny remaining features of their forefathers the Cale⯑donians. They have to this day a diſpoſition to war, and when diſciplined make excellent ſoldiers, [90] ſober, active, and obedient. They are eminently hoſpitable; and the character given by Strabo of the Gallic Celiae, that they were innocent, and devoid of malignity, is to them perfectly applicable. That they have not the magnanimity and heroiſm of the Caledonians, is eaſily accounted for. The Caledonians were a free and independent people, unawed by any ſuperior power, and living under the mild government of their own chieftains: compar⯑ed with their forefathers, the preſent highlanders make a very inconſiderable figure: their country is barren, and at any rate is but a ſmall part of a po⯑tent kingdom; and their language deprives them of intercourſe with their poliſhed neighbours.

There certainly never happened in literature a diſcovery more extraordinary than the works of Oſſi⯑an. To lay the ſcene of action among hunters in the firſt ſtage of ſociety, and to beſtow upon ſuch a people a ſyſtem of manners that would do honour to the moſt poliſhed ſtate, ſeemed at firſt an ill-con⯑trived forgery. But if a forgery, why ſo bold and improbable? why not invent manners more con⯑gruous to the ſavage ſtate? And as at any rate the work has greater merit, why did the author conceal himſelf? Theſe conſiderations rouſed my attention, and produced the foregoing diſquiſition; which I finiſhed, without imagining that any more light could be obtained. But after a long interval, a thought ſtruck me, that as the Caledonians formerly were much connected with the Scandinavians, the manners of the latter might probably give light in the preſent enquiry. I chearfully ſpread my ſails in a wide ocean, not without hopes of importing precious merchandiſe. Many volumes did I turn over of Scandinavian hiſtory; eſpecially where the manners of the inhabitants in the firſt ſtage of ſociety are delineated; and now I proceed to preſent my readers with the fruits of my labour.

[91] The Danes, ſays Adam of Bremen, are remark⯑able for elevation of mind: the puniſhment of death is leſs dreaded by them than that of whipping. ‘"The philoſophy of the Cimbri,"’ ſays Valerius Maximus, ‘"is gay and reſolute: they leap for joy in a battle, hoping for a glorious end: in ſickneſs they lament, for fear of the contrary."’ What fortified their courage was a perſuaſion, that thoſe who die in battle fighting bravely, are inſtantly tranſlated to the hall of Odin, to drink beer out of the ſkull of an enemy. ‘"Happy in their miſtake,"’ ſays Lucan, ‘"are the people who live near the pole: perſuaded that death is only a paſſage to long life, they are undiſturbed by the moſt griev⯑ous of all fears, that of dying: they eagerly run to arms, and eſteem it cowardice to ſpare a life they ſhall ſoon recover in another world."’ Such was their magnanimity, that they ſcorned to ſnatch a victory by ſurpriſe. Even in their piratical ex⯑peditions, inſtances are recorded of ſetting aſide all the ſhips that exceeded thoſe of the enemy, leſt the victory ſhould be attributed to ſuperiority of num⯑bers. It was held unmanly to decline a combat, however unequal; for courage, it was thought, rendered all men equal. The ſhedding tears was unmanly, even for the death of friends.

The Scandinavians were ſenſible in a high degree to praiſe and reproach; for love of fame was their darling paſſion. Olave, King of Norway, placing three of his ſcalds or bards around him in a battle, ‘"You ſhall not relate,"’ ſaid he, ‘"what you have only heard, but what you are eye-witneſſes of."’ Upon every occaſion we find them inſiſting upon glory, honour, and contempt of death, as leading principles. The bare ſuſpicion of cowardice was attended with univerſal contempt: a man who loſt his buckler, or received a wound behind, durſt ne⯑ver again appear in public. Frotho King of Den⯑mark, [92] taken captive in a battle, obſtinately refuſed either liberty or life. ‘"To what end,"’ ſays he, ‘"ſhould I ſurvive the diſgrace of being made a captive? Should you even reſtore to me my [...]er, my treaſure, and my kingdom, would theſe bene⯑fits reſtore me to my honour? Future ages will always have it to ſay, that Protho was taken by his enemy^y."’

Much efficacy is above aſcribed to the ſongs of Caledonian bards; and with ſatisfaction I find my obſervations juſtified in every Scandinavian hiſtory. The Kings of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden, are repreſented in ancient chronicles as conſtantly attended with ſcalds or bards; who were treated with great reſpect, eſpecially by princes diſtinguiſh⯑ed in war. Harold Harfager at his feaſts placed them above all his other officers; and employed them in negotiations of the greateſt importance. The poetic art, held in great eſtimation, was cul⯑tivated by men of the firſt rank. Rogvald, Earl of Orkney, paſſed for an able poet. King Regnar was diſtinguiſhed in poetry, no leſs than in war. It was the proper province of bards in Scandinavia, as in other countries, to celebrate in odes the atchieve⯑ments of deceaſed heroes. They were frequently employed in animating the troops before a battle. Hacon, Earl of Norway, in his famous engagement againſt the warriors of Iomſburg, had five celebrat⯑ed poets, each of whom ſung an ode to the ſoldiers ready to engage. Saxo Grammaticus, deſcribing a battle between Waldemar and Sueno, mentions a ſcald belonging to the former, who, advancing to the front of the army, reproached the latter in a pathetic ode as the murderer of his own father.

The odes of the Scandinavian bards have a pecu⯑liar energy; which is not difficult to be accounted [93] for. The propenſity of the Scandinavians to war, their love of glory, their undaunted courage, and their warlike exploits, naturally produced elevated ſentiments, and an elevated tone of language; both of which were diſplayed in celebrating heroic deeds. Take the following inſtances. The firſt is from the Edda, which contains the birth and genealogy of their gods. ‘"The giant Rymer arrives from the eaſt, carried in a chariot: the great ſerpent, rolling himſelf furiouſly in the waters, liſteth up the ſea. The eagle ſereams, and with his horrid beak tears the dead. The veſſel of the gods is ſet afloat. The black prince of ſire iſſues from the ſouth, ſurrounded with flames: the ſwords of the gods beam like the ſun: ſhaken are the rocks, and fall to pieces. The female giants wander about weeping: men in crowds tread the paths of death. Heaven is ſplit aſunder, the ſun darkened, and the earth ſunk in fhe ocean. The ſhining ſtars vaniſh: the fire rages the world draws to an end; and the flame aſcending licks the vault of heaven. From the boſom of the waves an earth emerges, clothed with lovely green: the floods retire: the fields produce with⯑out culture: misfortunes are baniſhed from the world. Balder and his brother, gods of war, return to inhabit the ruined palace of Odin. A palace more reſplendent than the ſun riſes now to view; adorned with a roof of gold: there good men ſhall inhabit▪ and live in joy and plea⯑ſure through all ages."’ In a collection of anci⯑ent hiſtorical monuments of the north, publiſhed by Biorner, a learned Swede, there is the following paſſage. ‘"Grunder, perceiving Grymer ruſhing furiouſly through oppoſing battalions, cries aloud, Thou alone remaineſt to engage with me in ſingle combat. It is now thy turn to feel the keenneſs of my ſword. Their ſabres, like dark [94] and threatening clouds, hang dreadful in the air. Grymer's weapon darts down like a thunderbolt: their ſwords furiouſly ſtrike: they are bathed in gore. Grymer cleaves the caſque of his enemy, hews his armour in pieces, and pours the light into his boſom. Grunder ſinks to the ground; and Grymer gives a dreadful ſhout of triumph."’ This picture is done with a maſterly hand. The capital circumſtances are judiciouſly ſelected; and the narration is compact and rapid. Indulge me with a moment's pauſe to compare this picture with one or two in Oſſian's manner. ‘"As autumn's dark ſtorm pour froms two echoing hills; ſo to each other approach the heroes. As from high rocks two dark ſtreams meet, and mix and roar on the plain; ſo meet Lochlin and Innis-fail, loud, rough, and dark in battle. Chief mixes his ſtrokes with chief, and man with man; ſteel ſounds on ſteel, helmets are cleft on high. Blood burſts, and ſmoaks around. Strings murmur on the poliſhed yew. Darts ruſh along the ſky. Spears fall like ſparks of flame that gild the ſtor⯑my face of night. As the noiſe of the troubled ocean when roll the waves on high, as the laſt peal of thundering heaven, ſuch is the noiſe of battle. Though Cormac's hundred bards were there, feeble were the voice of an hundred bards to ſend the deaths to future times; for many were the heroes who fell, and wide poured the blood of the valiant."’ Again, ‘"As roll a thouſand waves to the rocks, ſo came on Swaran's hoſt: as meets a rock a thouſand waves, ſo Innis-fail met Swaran. The voice of death is heard all around, and mixes with the ſound of ſhields. Each hero is a pillar of darkneſs, and the ſword a beam of fire in his hand. From wing to wing echoes the field, like a hundred hammers that riſe by turns on the red ſun of the furnace. Who [95] are thoſe on Lena's heath, ſo gloomy and dark? they are like two clouds, and their ſwords lighten above. Who is it but Oſſian's ſon, and the car⯑borne chief of Erin?"’ Theſe two deſcriptions make a deeper impreſſion, and ſwell the heart more than the former: they are more poetical by ſhort ſimiles finely interwoven; and the images are far more lofty. And yet Oſſian's chief talent is ſen⯑timent, in which Scandinavian bards are far inferi⯑or: in the generoſity, tenderneſs, and humanity of his ſentiments, he has not a rival.

The ancient Scandinavians were undoubtedly a barbarous people compared with the ſouthern nati⯑ons of Europe; but that they were far from being groſs ſavages, may be gathered from a poem ſtill extant, named HAVAMAAL; or, The ſublime Diſcourſe of Odin. Though that poem is of great antiquity, it is replete with good leſſons and ju⯑dicious reflections; of which the following are a ſpecimen:

• Happy he who gains the applauſe and good-will of men.
• Love your friends, and love alſo their friends.
• Be not the firſt to break with your friend: ſor⯑row gnaws the heart of him who has not a ſingle friend to adviſe with.
• Where is the virtuous man that hath not a fail⯑ing? Where is the wicked man that hath not ſome good quality?
• Riches take wing: relations die: you yourſelf ſhall die. One thing only is out of the reach of fate; which is, the judgement that paſſes on the dead.
• There is no malady more ſevere than the being diſcontented with one's lot.
• Let not a man be over-wiſe nor over-curious: if he would ſleep in quiet, let him not ſeek to know his deſtiny.
• [96] While we live, let us live well: a man lights his fire, but before it be burnt out, death may enter.
• A coward dreams that he may live for ever: if he ſhould eſcape every other weapon, he cannot eſcape that of old age.
• The flocks know when to retire from paſture: the glutton knows not when to retire from the feaſt.
• The lewd and diſſolute make a mock of every thing, not conſidering how much they deſerve to be mocked.
• The beſt proviſion for a journey is ſtrength of underſtanding: more uſeful than treaſure, it wel⯑comes one to the table of the ſtranger.

Hitherto the manners of the Scandinavians re⯑ſemble, in many capital circumſtances, thoſe deli⯑neated in the works of Oſſian. I lay not, how⯑ever, great ſtreſs upon that reſemblance, becauſe ſuch manners are found among ſeveral other war⯑like nations in the firſt ſtage of ſociety. The cir⯑cumſtance that has occaſioned the greateſt doubt about Oſſian's ſyſtem of manners, is the figure his women make. Among other ſavage nations, they are held to be beings of an inferior rank; and as ſuch are treated with very little reſpect: in Oſſian they make an illuſtrious figure, and are highly regarded by the men. I have not words to expreſs my ſatisfaction, when I diſcovered, that anciently among the barbarous Scandinavians, the female ſex made a figure no leſs illuſtrious. A re⯑ſemblance ſo complete with reſpect to a matter ex⯑tremely ſingular among barbarians, cannot fail to convert the moſt obſtinate infidel, leaving no doubt of Oſſian's veracity.—But I ought not to anti⯑cipate. One cannot paſs a verdict till the evidence be ſummed up; and to that taſk I now proceed, with ſanguine hopes of ſucceſs.

[97] It is a fact aſcertained by many writers, That women in the north of Europe were eminent for reſolution and courage. Caeſar, in the firſt book of his Commentaries, deſcribing a battle he fought with the Helvetii, ſays, that the women, with a warlike ſpirit, exhorted their huſbands to perſiſt, and placed the waggons in a line, to prevent their flight. Florus and Tacitus mention that ſeveral battles of thoſe barbarous nations were renewed by their women, preſenting their naked boſoms, and declaring their abhorrence of captivity. Fla⯑vius Vopiſcus, writing of Proculus Caeſar, ſays, that an hundred Samaritan virgins were taken in battle. The Longobard women, when many of their huſbands were cut off in a battle, took up arms, and obtained the victory^d. The females of the Galactophagi, a Scythian tribe, were as warlike as the males, and went often with them to war^e. In former times, many women in Den⯑mark applied themſelves to arms^f. Jornandes deſcribes the women of the Goths as full of cou⯑rage, and trained to arms like the men. Joannes Magnus, Archbiſhop of Upſal, ſays the ſame; and mentions in particular an expedition of the Goths to invade a neighbouring country, in which more women went along with the men than were left at home^g. Several Scandinavian women exerciſed piracy^h. The Cimbri were always attended with their wives, even in their diſtant expeditions, and were more afraid of their reproaches, than of the blows of the enemy. The Goths, compelled by famine to ſurrender to Beliſarius the city of Ra⯑venna, [98] were bitterly reproached by their wives for cowardiceⁱ. In a battle between Regner, King of Denmark, and Fro, King of Sweden, many women took part with the former, Langertha in particular, who fought with her hair flowing about her ſhoulders. Regner, being victorious, demand⯑ed who that woman was, who had behaved ſo gal⯑lantly; and finding her to be a virgin of noble birth, he took her to wife. He afterward divorced her, in order to make way for a daughter of the King of Sweden. Regner being unhappily engaged in a civil war with Harald, who aſpired to the throne of Denmark, Langertha, overlooking her wrongs, brought from Norway a body of men to aſſiſt her huſband; and behaved ſo gallantly, that, in the opinion of all, Regner was indebted to her for the victory.

To find women, in no inconſiderable portion of the globe, dropping their timid nature, and rivalling men in their capital property of courage, is a ſingular phoenomenon. That this phoenome⯑non muſt have had an adequate cauſe, is certain; but of that cauſe, it is better to acknowledge our utter ignorance, however mortifying, than to ſqueeze out conjectures that will not bear exa⯑mination.

In rude nations, prophets and ſoothſayers are held to be a ſuperior claſs of men: what a figure then muſt the Vandal women have made, when, in that nation, as Procropius ſays, all the prophets and ſoothſayers were of the female ſex? In Scandinavia, women are ſaid to have been ſkilful in magic arts, as well as men. Tacitus informs us, that the Germans had no other phyſicians but their women. They followed the armies, to ſtaunch the blood, and [99] ſuck the wounds of their huſbands^*. He men⯑tions a fact, that ſets the German women in a conſpicuous light, That female hoſtages bound the Germans more ſtrictly to their engagements than male hoſtages. He adds, ‘"Ineſſe quin etiam ſanc⯑tum aliquid et providum putant: nec aut con⯑ſilia earum aſpernantur, aut reſponſa negligun⯑tur^†."’ The hiſtories and romances of the north repreſent women, and even princeſſes, acting as phyſicians in war.

Polygamy ſprung up in countries where women are treated as inferior beings: it can never take place where the two ſexes are held to be of equal rank. For that reaſon, polygamy never was known among the northern nations of Europe. Saxo Grammaticus, who wrote the hiſtory of Denmark in the twelfth century, gives not the ſlighteſt hint of polygamy, even among kings and princes. Crantz, in his hiſtory of the Saxons^k, affirms, that polygamy was never known among the nor⯑thern nations of Europe; which is confirmed by every other writer who gives the hiſtory of any of thoſe nations. Scheffer, in particular, who writes the hiſtory of Lapland, obſerves, that neither po⯑lygamy [100] nor divorce were ever heard of in that country, not even during paganiſm.

We have the authority of Procopius^l, that the women in thoſe countries were remarkable for beauty, and that thoſe of the Goths and Vandals were the fineſt that ever had been ſeen in Italy; and we have the authority of Crantz, that chaſti⯑ty was in high eſtimation among the Danes, Swedes, and other Scandinavians. When theſe facts are added to thoſe above-mentioned, it will not be thought ſtrange, that love between the ſexes, even among that rude people, was a pure and elevated paſſion. That it was in fact ſuch, is certain, if hiſtory can be credited, or the ſen⯑timents of a people expreſſed in their poetical compoſitions. I begin with the latter, as evidence the moſt to be relied on. The ancient poems of Scandinavia contain the warmeſt expreſſions of love and regard for the female ſex. In an ode of King Regner Lodbrog, a very ancient poem, we find the following ſentiments: ‘"We fought with ſwords upon a promontory of England, when I ſaw ten thouſand of my foes rolling in the duſt. A dew of blood diſtilled from our ſwords: the arrows, that flew in ſearch of the helmet, hiſſed through the air. The pleaſure of that day was like the claſping a fair virgin in my arms."’ Again, ‘"A young man ſhould march early to the conflict of arms; in which conſiſts the glory of the warrior. He who aſpires to the love of a miſtreſs, ought to be dauntleſs in the claſh of ſwords."’ Theſe Hyperboreans, it would appear, had early learned to combine the ideas of love and of military proweſs; which is ſtill more conſpicuous in an ode of Harald the Va⯑liant, of a later date. That prince, who made a [101] figure in the middle of the eleventh century, tra⯑verſed all the ſeas of the north, and made pira⯑tical incurſions even upon the coaſts of the Medi⯑terranean. In this ode he complains, that the glory he had acquired made no impreſſion on Eliſſir, daughter to Jariſlas, King of Ruſſia. ‘"I have made the tour of Sicily. My brown veſſel, full of mariners, made a ſwift progreſs. My courſe, I thought, would never ſlacken—and yet a Ruſſian maiden ſcorns me. The troops or Drontheim, which I attacked in my youth, ex⯑ceeded ours in number. Terrible was the con⯑flict: I left their young king dead on the field—and yet a Ruſſian maiden ſcorns me. Eight exerciſes I can perform: I fight valiantly: firm is my ſeat on horſeback: inured I am to ſwim⯑ming: ſwift is my motion on ſcates: I dart the lance: I am ſkilful at the oar—and yet a Ruſſian maiden ſcorns me. Can ſhe deny, this young and lovely maiden, that near a city in the ſouth I joined battle, and left behind me laſting monuments of my exploits?—and yet a Ruſſian maiden ſcorns me. My birth was in the high country of Norway, famous for archers: but ſhips were my delight; and, far from the habitations of men, I have traverſed the ſeas from north to ſouth—and yet a Ruſſian maiden ſcorns me."’ in the very ancient poem of Ha⯑vamaal, mentioned above, there are many ex⯑preſſions of love to the fair-ſex. ‘"He who would gain the love of a maiden, muſt addreſs her with ſmooth ſpeeches, and ſhowy gifts. It re⯑quires good ſenſe to be a ſkilful lover."’ Again, ‘"If I aſpire to the love of the chaſteſt virgin, I can bend her mind, and make her yield to my deſires."’ The ancient Scandinavian chronicles preſent often to our view young warriors endea⯑vouring to acquire the favour of their miſtreſſes, [102] by boaſting of their accompliſhments, ſuch as their dexterity in ſwimming and ſcating, their talent in po⯑etry, their ſkill in cheſs, and their knowing all the ſtars by name. Mallet, in the Introduction to his Hiſtory of Denmark, mentions many ancient Scandinavian novels, that turn upon love and heroiſm. Theſe may be juſtly held as authentic evidence of the manners of the people: it is common to invent facts; but it is not common to attempt the invent⯑ing manners.

It is an additional proof of the great regard paid to women in Scandinavia, that in Edda, the Scandinavian Bible, female deities make as great a figure as male deities.

Agreeable to the manners deſcribed, we find it univerſally admitted among the ancient Scandi⯑navians, that beauty ought to be the reward of courage and military ſkill. A warrior was thought intitled to demand in marriage any young wo⯑man, even of the higheſt rank, if he overcame his rivals in ſingle combat: nor was it thought any hardſhip on the young lady to be yielded to the victor. The ladies were not always of that opini⯑on; for the ſtouteſt fighter is not always the hand⯑ſomeſt fellow, nor the moſt engaging. And in the Hiſtories of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, many inſtances are related, of men generouſly interpoſ⯑ing to reſcue young beauties from brutes, deſti⯑tute of every accompliſhment but ſtrength and boldneſs. Such ſtories have a fabulous air; and many of them probably are mere fables. Some of them, however, have a ſtrong appearance of truth: men are introduced, who make a figure in the real hiſtory of the country; and many circumſtances are related, that make links in the chain of that hiſtory. Take the following ſpecimen: The am⯑baſſadors of Frotho, King of Denmark, commiſ⯑ſioned [103] to demand in marriage the daughter of a King of the Hunns, were feaſted for three days, as the cuſtom was in ancient times; and being ad⯑mitted to the young Princeſs, ſhe rejected the offer: ‘"Becauſe,"’ ſays ſhe, ‘"your King has acquired no reputation in war, but paſſes his time effemi⯑nately at home."’ In Biorner's Collection of An⯑cient Hiſtorical Monuments, mentioned above, there is the following hiſtory: Charles, King of Sweden, kept on foot an army of choſen men. His Queen had borne him a daughter, named Ingue⯑gerda, whoſe lively and graceful accompliſhments were admired ſtill more than her birth and fortune. The breaſt of the King overflowed with felicity. Grymer, a youth of noble birth, knew to dye his ſword in the blood of his enemies, to run over craggy mountains, to wreſtle, to play at cheſs, and to trace the motions of the ſtars. He ſtudied to ſhew his ſkill in the apartment of the damſels, be⯑fore the lovely Inguegerda. At length he ventured to open his mind. ‘"Wilt thou, O fair Princeſs! accept of me for a huſband, if I obtain the King's conſent?"’ ‘"Go,"’ ſays ſhe, ‘"and ſup⯑plicate my father."’ The courtly youth, reſpect⯑fully addreſſing the King, ſaid, ‘"O King, give me in marriage thy beautiful daughter."’ He anſwered ſternly, ‘"Thou haſt learned to handle thy arms: thou haſt acquired ſome honourable diſtinctions: but haſt thou ever gained a victory, or given a banquet to ſavage beaſts that re⯑joice in blood?"’ ‘"Where ſhall I go, O King! that I may dye my ſword in crimſon, and render myſelf worthy of being thy ſon-in-law?"’ ‘"Hialmar, ſon of Harec,"’ ſaid the King, ‘"who governs Biarmland, has become ter⯑rible by a keen ſword: the firmeſt ſhields he hews in pieces, and loads his followers with booty. Go, and prove thy valour, by attack⯑ing [104] that hero: cauſe him to bite the duſt, and Inguegerda ſhall be thy reward."’ Grymer, re⯑turning to his fair miſtreſs, ſaluted her with ardent looks of love. ‘"What anſwer haſt thou received from the King?"’ ‘"To obtain thee I muſt deprive the fierce Hialmar of life."’ Ingue⯑gerda exclaimed with grief, ‘"Alas! my fa⯑ther hath devoted thee to death."’ Grymer ſe⯑lected a troop of brave warriors, eager to follow him. They launch their veſſels into the wide ocean: they unfurl their ſails, which catch the ſpringing gale: the ſhrowds rattle: the waves foam, and daſh againſt the prows: they ſteer their numerous veſſels to the ſhore of Gothland; bent to glut the hungry raven, and to gorge the wolf with prey. Thus landed Grymer on Gothland: and thus did a beauteous maiden occaſion the death of many heroes. Hialmar demanded who the ſtrangers were. Grymer told his name; adding, that he had ſpent the ſummer in queſt of him. ‘"May your arrival,"’ replied Hialmar, ‘"be fortunate; and may health and honour attend you! You ſhall partake of my gold, with the unmixed juice of the grape. Thy offers, ſaid Grymer, I dare not accept. Prepare for battle; and let us haſten to give a banquet to beaſts of prey. Hialmar laid hold of his white cuiraſs, his ſword, and his buckler. Grymer, with a violent blow of his ſabre, transfixes Hialmar's ſhield, and cuts off his left hand. Hialmar, enraged, brandiſhes his ſword, and ſtriking off Grymer's helmet and cuiraſs, pierces his breaſt and ſides; an effuſion of blood following the wounds. Grymer, raiſ⯑ing his ſabre with both hands, lays Hialmar pro⯑ſtrate on the ground; and he himſelf ſinks down upon the dead body of his adverſary. He was put on ſhip-board, and ſeemed to be at the laſt period of life when he landed. The diſtreſſed Princeſs [105] undertook his cure, and reſtored him to health. They were married with great ſolemnity, and the beauteous bride of Grymer filled the heart of her hero with unfading joy."’

According to the rude manners of thoſe times, a lover did not always wait for the conſent of his miſ⯑treſs. Joannes Magnus, Archbiſhop of Upſal, ob⯑ſerves, in his hiſtory of the Goths, that raviſhing of women was of old no leſs frequent among the Scandinavians than among the Greeks. He relates, that Gram, ſon to the King of Denmark, carried off the King of Sweden's daughter, whoſe beauty was celebrated in verſes exiſting even in his time. Another inſtance he gives, of Nicolaus King of Denmark^m, who courted Uluilda, a noble and beautiful Norvegian lady, and obtained her conſent. Nothing remained but the celebration of the nupti⯑als, when ſhe was carried off by Suercher, King of Sweden. We have the authority of Saxo Gram⯑maticus, that Skiold, one of the firſt Kings of Denmark, fought a duel for a beautiful young wo⯑man, and obtained her for a wife. That author relates many duels of the ſame kind. It was indeed common among the Scandinavians, before they be⯑came Chriſtians, to fight for a wife, and to carry off the deſired object by force of arms. No cauſe of war between neighbouring kings was more fre⯑quent. Fridlevus King of Denmark ſent a ſolemn embaſſy to Haſmundus King of Norway, to de⯑mand in marriage his daughter. Haſmundus had a rooted averſion to the Danes, who had done much miſchief in his country. ‘"Go,"’ ſays he to the am⯑baſſadors, ‘"and demand a wife where you are leſs hated than in Norway."’ The young lady, who had no averſion to the match, intreated leave to [106] ſpeak. ‘"You ſeem,"’ ſaid ſhe, ‘"not to conſult the good of your kingdom in rejecting ſo potent a ſon-in-law, who can carry by force what he is now applying for by intreaties."’ The father however continuing obſtinate, diſmiſſed the ambaſ⯑ſadors. Fridlevus ſent other ambaſſadors, redoub⯑ling his intreaties for a favourable anſwer. Haſ⯑mundus ſaid, that one refuſal might be thought ſufficient; and in a fit of paſſion put the ambaſſa⯑dors to death. Fridlevus invaded Norway with a potent army; and, after a deſperate battle, carried off the lady in triumph.

The figure that women made in the north of Europe by their courage, their beauty, and their chaſtity, could not fail to produce mutual eſteem and love between the ſexes: nor could that love fail to be purified into the moſt tender affection, when their rough manners were ſmoothed in the progreſs of ſociety. If love between the ſexes pre⯑vail in Lapland as much as any where, which is vouched by Scheffer in his hiſtory of that country, it muſt be for a reaſon very different from that now mentioned. The males in Lapland, who are great cowards, have no reaſon to deſpiſe the females for their timidity; and in every country where the wo⯑men equal the men, mutual eſteem and affection naturally take place. Two Lapland odes commu⯑nicated to us by the author mentioned, leave no doubt of this fact, being full of the tendereſt ſenti⯑ments that love can inſpire. The following is a literal tranſlation.

In the Scandinavian manners here deſcribed is diſ⯑covered a ſtriking reſemblance to thoſe deſcribed by Oſſian. And as ſuch were the manners of the Scan⯑dinavians in the firſt ſtage of ſociety, it no longer remains a wonder, that the manners of Caledonia ſhould be equally pure in the ſame early period. And now every argument above urged in favour of Oſſian as a genuine hiſtorian has its full weight, without the leaſt counterpoiſe. It is true, that Ca⯑ledonian manners appear from Oſſian to have been ſtill more poliſhed and refined than thoſe of Scandi⯑navia; but that difference may have proceeded from many cauſes, which time has buried in ob⯑livion.

[110] I make no apology for inſiſting ſo largely on Scan⯑dinavian manners; for they tend remarkably to ſup⯑port the credit of Oſſian, and conſequently to aſcer⯑tain a fact extremely intereſting, that our forefa⯑thers were by no means ſuch barbarians as they are commonly held to be. All the inhabitants of Britain were of Celtic extraction; and we have reaſon to believe, that the manners of Caledonia were the manners of every part of the iſland, before the in⯑habitants of the plains were enſlaved by the Ro⯑mans. The only circumſtance peculiar to the Caledonians, is their mountainous ſituation: being leſs expoſed to the oppreſſion of foreigners, and far⯑ther removed from commerce, they did longer than their ſouthern neighbours preſerve their manners pure and untainted.

I have all along conſidered the poems of Oſſian merely in an hiſtorical view. In the view of criticiſm they have been examined by a writer of diſtinguiſh⯑ed taſteⁿ; and however bold to enter a field where he hath reaped laurels, I imagine that there ſtill remain ſome trifles for me to glean. Two of theſe poems, Fingal and Temora, are regular epic po⯑ems; and perhaps the ſingle inſtances of epic poetry moulded into the form of an opera. We have in theſe two poems both the Recitativo and Aria of an Italian opera; dropped indeed in the tranſlation, from difficulty of imitation. Oſſian's poems were all of them compoſed with a view to muſic; though in the long poems mentioned it is probable, that the airs only were accompanied with the harp, the recitative being left to the voice. The poems of Oſſian are ſingular in another reſpect, being pro⯑bably the only work now remaining that was com⯑poſed [111] in the hunter-ſtate. Some ſongs of that early period may poſſibly be remaining, but nothing like a regular work. One may advance a ſtep farther, and pronounce, with a high degree of probability, that Fingal and Temora are the only epic poems that ever were compoſed in that ſtate. How great muſt have been the talents of the author, beſet with every obſtruction to genius, the manners of his country alone excepted; a cold unhoſpitable cli⯑mate, with ſuch deformity on the face of the coun⯑try as ſcarce to afford a pleaſing object; and he himſelf abſolutely illiterate! One, advancing ſtill farther, may venture boldly to affirm, that ſuch a poem as Fingal or Temora never was compoſed in any other part of the world under ſuch diſadvanta⯑geous circumſtances.

Tho' permanent manners enter not regularly in⯑to the preſent ſketch, I am however tempted to add a few words concerning the influence of ſoil upon the diſpoſition of man, in order to ſhow the wiſdom of Providence, which fits the ground we tread on, not only for ſupplying our wants, but for improving our manners. The ſtupidity of the inhabitants of New Holland, mentioned above, is occaſioned by the barrenneſs of their ſoil, yielding nothing that can be food for man or beaſt. Day and night they watch the ebb of the tide, in order to dig ſmall fiſh out of the ſand; and ſleep in the intervals, without an hour to ſpare for any other occupation. People in that condition muſt for ever remain ignorant and brutiſh. Were all the earth barren like New Hol⯑land, all men would be ignorant and brutiſh, like the inhabitants of New Holland. On the other hand, were every portion of this earth naturally ſo fertile as ſpontaneouſly to feed all its inhabitants, which is the golden age figured by poets, what would follow? Upon the former ſuppoſition, man [112] would be a meagre, patient, and timid animal: upon the latter ſuppoſition, he would be pampered, lazy, and effeminate. In both caſes, he would be ſtupidly ignorant, and incapable of any manly exer⯑tion, whether of mind or body. But the ſoil of our earth is more wiſely accommodated to man, its chief inhabitant. Taking it general, it is neither ſo fertile as to ſuperſede labour, nor ſo barren as to require our whole labour. The laborious occupa⯑tion of hunting for food produced originally ſome degree of induſtry: and though all the induſtry of man was at firſt neceſſary for procuring food, cloath⯑ing, and habitation; yet the ſoil, by ſkill in agri⯑culture, came to produce plenty with leſs labour, which to ſome afforded ſpare time for thinking of conveniences. A habit of induſtry thus acquired excited many to beſtow their leiſure-hours upon the arts, proceeding from uſeful arts to fine arts, and from theſe to the ſciences. Wealth, accumulated by induſtry, has a wonderful influence upon man⯑ners: feuds and war, the offspring of wealth, call forth into action friendſhip, courage, heroiſm, and every ſocial virtue, as well as many ſelfiſh vices. How like brutes do we paſs our time, without once reflecting on the conduct of Providence operating even under our feet!

Diverſity of manners, at the ſame time, enters into the plan of Providence, as well as diverſity of talents, of feelings, and of opinions. Our Maker hath given us a taſte for variety; and he hath pro⯑vided objects in plenty for its gratification. Some ſoils, naturally fertile, require little labour: ſome ſoils, naturally barren, require the extremity of labour. But the advantages of ſuch a ſoil are more than ſufficient to counterbalance its barrenneſs: the inhabitants are ſober, induſtrious, vigorous; and conſequently courageous, ſo far as courage depends [113] on bodily ſtrength^*. The diſadvantages of a fer⯑tile ſoil, on the contrary, are more than ſufficient to counterbalance its advantages: the inhabitants are rendered indolent, weak, and cowardly. Hin⯑doſtan may ſeem to be an exception; for though it be extremely fertile, the people however are induſ⯑trious, and export manufactures in great abundance at a very low price. But Hindoſtan properly is not an exception. The Hindows, who are prohibited by their religion to kill any living creature, muſt abandon to animals for food a large proportion of land; which obliges them to cultivate what remains with double induſtry, in order to procure food for themſelves. The populouſneſs of their country con⯑tributes alſo to make them induſtrious. Arragon was once the moſt limited monarchy in Europe, England not excepted: the barrenneſs of the ſoil was the cauſe, which rendered the people hardy and courageous. In a preamble to one of their laws, the ſtates declare, that were they not more free than other nations, the barrenneſs of their coun⯑try would tempt them to abandon it. Oppoſed to Arragon ſtands Egypt, the fertility of which ren⯑ders the inhabitants ſoft and effeminate, and conſe⯑quently an eaſy prey to every invader^†. The [114] fruitfulneſs of the province of Quito in Peru, and the low price of every neceſſary, occaſioned by its diſtance from the ſea, have plunged the inhabitants into ſupine indolence, and exceſſive luxury. The people of the town of Quito in particular have aban⯑doned themſelves to every ſort of debauchery. The time they have to ſpare from wine and women is employed in exceſſive gaming. In other reſpects alſo the manners of a people are influenced by the country they inhabit. A great part of Calabria, formerly populous and fertile, is at preſent covered with trees and ſhrubs, like the wilds of America; and the ferocity of its inhabitants correſpond to the rudeneſs of the fields. The ſame is viſible in the inhabitants of Mount Etna in Sicily: the country and its inhabitants are equally rugged.

SKETCH VIII.
Progreſs and Effects of LUXURY.

THE wiſdom of Providence is in no inſtance more conſpicuous than in adjuſting the con⯑ſtitution of man to his external circumſtances. Food is extremely precarious in the hunter-ſtate; ſome⯑times ſuperabounding with little fatigue, ſometimes failing after great fatigue. A ſavage, like other ani⯑mals of prey, has a ſtomach adjuſted to that varie⯑ty: he can bear a long faſt; and gorges voraciouſ⯑ly when he has plenty, without being the worſe for it. Whence it is, that barbarians, who have ſcarce any ſenſe of decency, are great and groſs feeders^*. They are equally addicted to drunkenneſs; and pe⯑culiarly fond of ſpirituous liquors. Drinking was a faſhionable vice in Greece, when Menander, Phi⯑lemon, and Diphilus, wrote, if we can rely on the tranſlations or imitations of thoſe writers by Plautus and Terence. Diodorus Siculus reports, that in his time the Gauls, like other barbarians, were much addicted to drinking. The ancient Scandinavians, who, like other ſavages, were intemperate in eating and drinking, ſwallowed large cups to their gods, [116] and to ſuch of their countrymen as had fallen brave⯑ly in battle. We learn from the 25th fable of the Edda, which was their ſacred book, that to hold much liquor was reputed an heroic virtue. Coata⯑rini the Venetian ambaſſador, who wrote ann. 1473, ſays, that the Ruſſians were abandoned to drunkenneſs; and that the whole race would have been extirpated, had not ſtrong liquors been diſ⯑charged by the ſovereign. The Kamſkatkans love fat; and a man entertains his gueſts by cramming into their mouths fat ſlices of a ſeal, or a whale, cutting off with his knife what hangs out.

A habit of faſting long, acquired as above in the hunter-ſtate, made meals in the ſhepherd-ſtate leſs frequent than at preſent, though food was at hand. Anciently people fed but once a-day, a faſhion that continued even after luxury was indulged in other reſpects. In the war of Xerxes againſt Greece, it was pleaſantly ſaid of the Abderites, who were bur⯑dened with providing for the King's table, that they ought to thank the gods for not inclining Xerxes to eat twice a-day. Plato held the Sicilians to be glut⯑tons for having two meals a-day. Arrian^a obſerves, that the Tyrrhenians had a bad habit of two meals a-day. In the reign of Henry VI. the people of England fed but twice a-day. Hector Boyes, in his hiſtory of Scotland, exclaiming againſt the growing luxury of his cotemporaries, ſays, that ſome perſons were ſo gluttonous as to have three meals a-day.

Luxury undoubtedly, and love of ſociety, tended to increaſe the number of meals beyond what na⯑ture requires. On the other hand, there is a cauſe that abridged the number for ſome time, which is, the introduction of machines. Bodily ſtrength is eſſential to a ſavage, being his only tool; and with [117] it he performs wonders. Machines have rendered bodily ſtrength of little importance; and as men labour leſs than originally, they eat leſs in propor⯑tion^*. Liſten to Hollinſhed the Engliſh hiſtorian upon that article: ‘"Heretofore there hath been much more time ſpent in eating and drinking than commonly is in theſe days; for whereas of old we had breakfaſts in the forenoon, be⯑verages or nuntions after dinner, and thereto rear ſuppers when it was time to go to reſt; now theſe odd repaſts, thanked be God, are very well left, and each one contenteth himſelf with dinner and ſupper only."’ Thus, before cookery and luxury crept in, a moderate ſtomach, occaſioned by the abridging bodily labour, made eating leſs frequent than formerly. But the mo⯑tion did not long continue retrograde: good cook⯑ery, and the pleaſure of eating in company, turn⯑ed the tide; and people now eat leſs at a time, but more frequently.

Feaſts in former times were carried beyond all bounds. William of Malmſbury, who wrote in the days of Henry II. ſays, ‘"That the Engliſh were univerſally addicted to drunkenneſs, conti⯑nuing over their cups day and night, keeping open houſe, and ſpending the income of their eſtates in riotous feaſts, where eating and drink⯑ing were carried to exceſs, without any ele⯑gance."’ People who live in a corner imagine, that every thing is peculiar to themſelves: what Malmſbury ſays of the Engliſh, is common to all nations, in advancing from the ſelfiſhneſs of ſavages to a reliſh for ſociety, but who have not yet learn⯑ed [118] to bridle their appetites. Leland^b mentions a feaſt given by the Archbiſhop of York at his inſtallation, in the reign of Edward IV. The following is a ſpecimen: 300 quarters of wheat, 300 tons of ale, 100 tons of wine, 1000 ſheep, 104 oxen, 304 calves, 304 ſwine, 2000 geeſe, 1000 capons, 2000 pigs, 400 ſwans, 104 peacocks, 1500 hot veniſon paſties, 4000 cold, 5000 cuſ⯑tards hot and cold. Such entertainments are a picture of manners. At that early period, there was not diſcovered in ſociety any pleaſure but that of crouding together in hunting and feaſting. The delicate pleaſures of converſation, in communi⯑cating opinions, ſentiments, and deſires, were to them utterly unknown. There appeared, how⯑ever, even at that early period, a faint dawn of the fine arts. In ſuch feaſts as are mentioned above, a curious deſert was ſometimes exhibited, termed SUTTEITIE, viz. paſte moulded into the ſhape of animals. On a ſaint's day, angels, prophets, and patriarchs were ſet on the table in plenty. A feaſt given by Trivultius to Lewis XII. of France, in the city of Milan, makes a figure in Italian hiſ⯑tory. No fewer than 1200 ladies were invited; and the Cardinals of Narbon and St. Severin, with many other prelates, were among the dancers. After dancing followed the feaſt, to regulate which there were no fewer employed than 160 maſter⯑houſeholds. Twelve hundred officers, in an uni⯑form of velvet, or ſatin, carried the victuals, and ſerved at the ſide-board. Every table, without diſtinction, was ſerved with ſilver plate, engraved with the arms of the landlord; and, beſide a pro⯑digious number of Italian lords, the whole court, and all the houſehold of the King, were feaſted. The bill of-fare of an entertainment given by Sir [119] Watkin Williams Wynn to a company of 1500 perſons, on his coming of age, is a ſample of an⯑cient Engliſh hoſpitality, which appears to have nothing in view but crouding and cramming merely. The following paſſage is from Hollinſhed: ‘"That the length and ſumptuouſneſs of feaſts formerly in uſe, are not totally left off in England, not⯑withſtanding that it proveth very beneficial to the phyſicians, who moſt abound where moſt exceſs and miſgovernment of our bodies do ap⯑pear."’ He adds, that claret, and other French wines, were deſpiſed, and ſtrong wines only in re⯑queſt. The beſt, he ſays, were to be found in monaſteries; for ‘"that the merchant would have thought his ſoul would go ſtraightway to the devil, if he ſhould ſerve monks with other than the beſt."’ Our forefathers reliſhed ſtrong wine, for the ſame reaſon that their forefathers reliſhed brandy. In Scotland, ſumptuous entertainments were common at marriages, baptiſms, and burials. In the reign of Charles II. a ſtatute was thought neceſſary to confine them within moderate bounds.

Of old, there was much eating, with little va⯑riety: at preſent, there is great variety, with more moderation. From a houſhold-book of the Earl of Northumberland, in the reign of Henry VIII. it appears, that his family, during winter, fed moſtly on ſalt meat, and ſalt fiſh; and with that view there was an appointment of 160 gallons of muſtard. On fleſh-days through the year, break⯑faſt for my Lord and Lady was a loaf of bread, two manchets, a quart of beer, a quart of wine, half a chine of mutton, or a chine of beef boiled. On meagre days, a loaf of bread, two manchets, a quart of beer, a quart of wine, a diſh of butter, a piece of ſalt fiſh, or a diſh of buttered eggs. Dur⯑ing lent, a loaf of bread, two manchets, a quart of beer, a quart of wine, two pieces of ſalt fiſh, ſix [120] bacon'd herring, four white herring, or a diſh of ſproits. There was as little variety in the other meals, except on feſtival-days. That way of liv⯑ing was at the time high luxury: a lady's waiting⯑woman at preſent w uld never have done with grumbling at ſuch a table. We learn from the ſame book, that the Earl had but two cooks for dreſſing victuals to more than two hundred domeſ⯑tics. In thoſe days, hen, chicken, capon, pigeon, plover, partridge, were reckoned ſuch delicacies, as to be prohibited except at my Lord's table^c.

But luxury is always creeping on, and delicacies become more familiar. Hollinſhed obſerves, that white meats, milk, butter, and cheeſe, formerly the chief food of his countrymen, were in his time degraded to be the food of the lower ſort; and that the wealthy fed upon fleſh and fiſh. By a roll of the King of Scotland's houſehold-expence, anno 1378, we find, that the art of gelding cattle was known. The roll is in Latin, and the gelt hogs are termed porcelli eunuchi. Mention is alſo made of chickens, which were not common on Engliſh tables at that time. Olive oil is alſo mentioned.

In this progreſs, cooks, we may believe, came to make a figure. Hollinſhed obſerves, that the nobility, rejecting their own cookery, employ'd as cooks muſical-headed Frenchmen and ſtrangers, as he terms them. He ſays, that even merchants, when they gave a feaſt, rejected butcher's meat as unworthy of their tables; having jellies of all co⯑lours, and in all figures, repreſenting flowers, trees, beaſts, fiſh, fowl, and fruit. Henry Wardlaw Archbiſhop of St. Andrew's, obſerving the refine⯑ments in cookery introduced by James I. of Scot⯑land, who had been eighteen years a priſoner in England, exclaimed againſt the abuſe in a parlia⯑ment [121] held at Perth 1433: he obtained a law, re⯑ſtraining ſuperfluous diet; and prohibiting the uſe of baked meat to any under the degree of gentle⯑men, and permitting it to gentlemen on feſtival-days only; which baked meat, ſays the biſhop, was never before ſeen in Scotland. The peaſants in Sicily regale themſelves with ice during ſummer. They ſay, that a ſcarcity of ſnow would be more grievous to them than a ſcarcity of corn, or of wine. Such progreſs has luxury made, even among the populace. People of faſhion in London and in Paris, who employ their whole thoughts on luxu⯑rious living, would be ſurpriſed to be told, that they are ſtill deficient in that art. In order to advance luxury of the table to the ACME of perfection, there ought to be a cook for every diſh, as there was in ancient Egypt a phyſician for every diſeaſe.

Barbarous nations, being great eaters, are fond of large joints of meat: and love of ſhow retains great joints in faſhion, even after meals become more moderate: a wild boar was roaſted whole for a ſupper-diſh to Antony and Cleopatra; and when ſtuffed with poultry and wild-fowl, it was a favou⯑rite diſh at Rome, termed the Trojan boar, in al⯑luſion to the Trojan horſe. The hoſpitality of the Anglo-Saxons was ſometimes exerted in roaſting an ox whole. Great joints are left off gradually, as people become more and more delicate in eating. In France, great joints are leſs in uſe than former⯑ly; and in England, the voluminous ſurloin of roaſt beef, formerly the pride of the nation, is now in polite families relegated to the ſide-board. In China, where manners are carried to a high degree of refinement, diſhes are compoſed entirely of minc⯑ed meat.

In early times, people were no leſs plain in their houſes than in their food. Toward the end of the ſixteenth century, when Hollinſhed wrote, the [122] people of England were beginning to build with brick and ſtone. Formerly houſes were made of poſts wattled together, and plaiſtered with clay to keep out the cold: the roof was ſtraw, ſedge, or reed. It was an obſervation of a Spaniard in Queen Mary's days, ‘"Theſe Engliſh have their houſes of ſticks and dirt, but they fare as well as the King."’ Hollinſhed mentioning multitudes of chimnies lately erected, obſerves, upon the autho⯑rity of ſome old men, that in their younger days there were not above two or three, if ſo many, in moſt uplandiſh towns of the realm, religious houſes and manor-places of their lords excepted; but that each made his fire againſt a rere-doſſe in the hall, where he dined, and dreſſed his meat. From Lord Northumberland's houſehold-book, it would ſeem, that grates were unknown at that time, and that they burnt their coal upon the hearth: a certain ſum is allotted for purchaſing wood; becauſe, ſays the book, coals will not burn without it. There is alſo a certain ſum allotted for purchaſing char⯑coal, that the ſmoke of the ſea-coal might not hurt the arras. In the fourteenth century, the houſes of private perſons in Paris, as well as in London, were of wood. The ſtreets of Paris, not being paved, were covered with mud; and yet for a woman to travel thoſe ſtreets in a cart, was held an article of luxury, and as ſuch prohibited by Philip the Fair. Paris is enlarged two thirds ſince the death of Henry IV. tho' at that time it was perhaps not much leſs populous than at preſent.

They were equally plain in their houſehold-fur⯑niture. While money was ſcarce, ſervants got land inſtead of wages. An old tenure in England binds the vaſſal to find ſtraw for the King's bed, and hay for his horſe. From Lord Northumber⯑land's houſehold-book, mentioned above, it ap⯑pears, that the linen allowed for a whole year [123] amounted to no more than ſeventy ells; of which there were to be eight table-cloths (no napkins) for his Lordſhip's table, and two towels for waſhing his face and hands. Pewter veſſel was prohibited to be hired, except on Chriſtmas, Eaſter, St. George's day, and Whitſunday. Hollinſhed men⯑tions his converſing with old men who remarked many alterations in England within their remem⯑brance; that their fathers, and they themſelves formerly, had nothing to ſleep on but a ſtraw pal⯑lat, with a log of timber for a pillow; a pillow, ſaid they, being thought meet only for a woman in childbed; and that if a man in ſeven years after marriage could purchaſe a flock-bed, and a ſack of chaff to reſt his head upon, he thought himſelf as well lodged as the lord of the town; who, perad⯑venture, lay ſeldom on a bed entirely of feathers. Another thing they remarked, was change of houſe⯑hold-veſſel from timber plates into pewter, and from wooden ſpoons into tin or ſilver.

Nor were they leſs plain in their dreſs. By an act of parliament in Scotland, anno 1429, none were permitted to wear ſilk or coſtly furs, but knights and lords of 200 merks yearly rent. But luxury in dreſs advanced ſo faſt, that by another act, anno 1457, the ſame dreſs was permitted to aldermen, bailies, and other good worthy men within burgh. And by a third act, anno 1471, it was permitted to gentlemen of L. 100 yearly rent. By a ſumptuary law in Scotland, anno 1621, cloth of gold and ſilver, gold and ſilver lace, velvet, ſatin, and other ſilk ſtuffs, were prohibited, except to noblemen, their wives and children, to lords of parliament, prelates, privy counſellors, lords of manors, judges, magiſtrates of towns, and to thoſe who have 6000 merks of yearly rent. Such diſ⯑tinctions, with reſpect to landed rent eſpecially, are invidious; nor can they ever be kept up. [124] James, the firſt Britiſh monarch, was, during infancy, committed to the care of the Dowager-Counteſs of Mar, who had been educated in France, The King being ſeized with a cholic in the night⯑time, his houſehold ſervants flew to his bed-cham⯑ber, men and women, naked as they were born; the Counteſs alone had a ſmock.

During the reign of Edward III. the imports into England were not the ſeventh part of the exports. Our exports at that time were not the ſeventh part of our preſent exports; and yet our luxury is ſuch, that with all our political regulations, it is with difficulty that the balance of trade is preſerved in our favour.

Men in different ages differ widely in their no⯑tions of luxury: every new object of ſenſual grati⯑fication, and every indulgence beyond what is uſual, are commonly termed luxury; and ceaſe to be luxury when they turn habitual. Thus, every hiſtorian, ancient and modern, while he inveighs againſt the luxury of his own times, wonders at former hiſtorians for characteriſing as luxury what he conſiders as conveniencies merely, or rational improvements. Hear the Roman hiſtorian, talk⯑ing of the war that his countrymen carried on ſuc⯑ceſsfully againſt Antiochus King of Syria: ‘"Lux⯑uriae enim peregrinae origo ab exercitu Aſiatico invecta urbem eſt. Ii primum lectos aeratos, veſtem ſtragulam pretioſam, plagulas et alia textilia, et quae tum magnificae ſupellectilis ha⯑bebantur, monopodia et abacos Romam advexe⯑runt. Tunc pſaltriae, ſambuſiſtriaeque, et con⯑vivalia Iudionum oblectamenta addita epulis▪ epulae quoque ipſae et cura et ſumptu majore ad⯑parari coeptae: tum coquus, viliſſimum antiquis mancipium eſtimatione et uſu, in pretio eſſe; et, quod miniſterium fuerat, ars haberi coepta. Vix tamen illa, quae tum conſpiciebantur, femina [125] erant futurae luxuriae^{* d}."’ Houſehold-furni⯑ture at Rome muſt at that period have been ex⯑ceedingly plain, when a carpet and a one-footed table were reckoned articles of luxury. When the gelding of bulls and rams was firſt practiſed, it was probably conſidered as abominable luxury. Gal⯑vanus Fiamma, who in the fourteenth century wrote a Hiſtory of Milan, his native country, com⯑plains, that in his time plain living had given way to luxury and extravagance. He regrets the times of Frederic Barbaroſſa and Frederic II. when the inhabitants of Milan, a great capital, had but three fleſh meals in a week, when wine was a rarity, when the better ſort made uſe of dried wood for candles, and when their ſhirts were of ſerge, linen being confined to perſons of the higheſt rank. ‘"Matters,"’ ſays he, ‘"are wonderfully changed: linen is a common wear: the women dreſs in ſilk, ornamented frequently with gold and ſilver; and they wear gold pendants at their ears."’ An hiſtorian of the preſent times would laugh at Fi⯑amma, for ſtating as articles of luxury what are no more but decent for a tradeſman and his wife. [126] John Muſſo, a native of Lombardy, who alſo wrote in the fourteenth century, declaims againſt the luxury of his time, and particularly againſt the luxury of the citizens of Placentia, his countrymen. ‘"Luxury of the table,"’ ſays he, ‘"of dreſs, of houſes and houſehold-furniture, in Placentia, begun to creep in after the year 1300. Houſes have at preſent halls, rooms with chimneys, porticos, wells, gardens, and many other con⯑veniencies unknown to our anceſtors. A houſe that has now many chimneys, had none in the laſt age. The fire was placed in the middle of the houſe, without any vent for the ſmoke but the tiles: all the family ſat round it, and the victuals were dreſſed there. The expence of houſehold-furniture is ten times greater than it was ſixty years ago. The taſte for ſuch expence comes to us from France, from Flanders, and from Spain. Eating-tables, formerly but twelve inches long, are now grown to eighteen. They have table-cloths, with cups, ſpoons, and forks, of ſilver, and large knives. Beds have ſilk co⯑verings and curtains. They have got candles of tallow or wax, in candleſticks of iron or copper. Almoſt every where there are two fires, one for the chamber and one for the kitchen. Confec⯑tions have come greatly in uſe, and ſenſuality regards no expence."’ Hollinſhed exclaims againſt the luxury and effeminacy of his time. ‘"In times paſt,"’ ſays he, ‘"men were contented to dwell in houſes builded of ſallow, willow, plumtree, or elm; ſo that the uſe of oak was dedicated to churches, religious houſes, princes palaces, noblemens lodgings, and navigation. But now theſe are rejected, and nothing but oak any whit regarded. And yet ſee the change; for when our houſes were builded of willow, then had we oaken men; but now that our houſes [127] are made of oak, our men are not only become willow, but many, thro' Perſian delicacy crept in among us, altogether of ſtraw, which is a fore alteration. In thoſe days, the courage of the owner was a ſufficient defence to keep the houſe in ſafety; but now, the aſſurance of the timber, double doors, locks and bolts, muſt de⯑fend the man from robbing. Now have we many chimneys, and our tenderlings complain of rheums, catarrhs, and poſes. Then had we none but rere-doſſes, and our heads did never ake. For as the ſmoke in thoſe days was ſup⯑poſed to be a ſufficient hardening for the timber of the houſe; ſo it was reputed a far better me⯑dicine to keep the goodman and his family from the quack or poſe, wherewith very few were then acquainted."’ Not many years above fifty, French wine, in the Edinburgh taverns, was pre⯑ſented to the gueſts in a ſmall tin veſſel, meaſuring about an Engliſh pint. A ſingle drinking-glaſs ſerved a company the whole evening; and the firſt perſons who inſiſted for a clean glaſs with every new pint were accuſed of luxury. A knot of high⯑landers benighted, wrapped themſelves up in their plaids, and lay down on the ſnow to ſleep. A young gentleman making up a ball of ſnow, uſed it for a pillow. His father^e, ſtriking away the ball with his foot, ‘"What, Sir,"’ ſays he, ‘"are you turning effeminate?"’ Crantz, deſcribing the kingdom of Norway, and the manners of the people, has the following reflection. ‘"Robuſtiſ⯑ſimus educat viros, qui, nulla frugum luxuria moliti, ſaepius impugnant alios quam impugnan⯑tur^*."’ In the mountainous iſland of Rum, one [128] of the weſtern iſlands of Scotland, the corn produ⯑ced ſerves the inhabitants but a few months in win⯑ter. The reſt of the year they live on fleſh, fiſh, and milk; and yet are healthy and long-lived. In the year 1768, a man died there, aged 10 [...], who was 50 years old before he ever taſted bread. This old man frequently harangued upon the plain fare of former times, finding fault with his neighbours for indulging in bread; and upbraiding them with their toiling like ſlaves for the production of ſuch an unneceſſary article of luxury.

Thus every one exclaims againſt the luxury of the preſent times, judging more favourably of the paſt; as if what is luxury at preſent, would ceaſe to be luxury when it becomes cuſtomary. What is the foundation of a ſentiment ſo univerſal? In point of dignity, corporeal pleaſures are the loweſt of all that belong to our nature: and for that reaſon, perſons of delicacy diſſemble the pleaſure they take in eating and drinking^f. When corporeal plea⯑ſure is indulged to exceſs, it is not only low, but mean. But as in judging of things that admit of degrees, compariſon is the ordinary ſtandard, every refinement in corporeal pleaſure beyond what is cuſ⯑tomary, is held to be an exceſs, blameable as below the dignity of human nature. Thus every improve⯑ment in living is pronounced to be luxury while re⯑cent, and drops that character when it comes into common uſe. For the ſame reaſon, what is mode⯑ration in the capitol, is eſteemed luxury in a coun⯑try town. Doth luxury then depend entirely on compariſon? is there no other foundation for diſtin⯑guiſhing [129] moderation from exceſs? This will hardly be maintained.

This ſubject is thrown into obſcurity by giving different meanings to the term luxury. A French writer holds every ſort of food to be luxury, but raw fleſh and acorns, which were the original food of ſavages; and every ſort of covering to be luxury but ſkins, which were their original cloathing. Ac⯑cording to that definition, the plough, the ſpade, the loom, are all of them inſtruments of luxury; and in that view he juſtly extols luxury to the ſkies. Let every man enjoy the privilege of giving his own meaning to words: at the ſame time, when a man deviates ſo far from their uſual meaning, the neglect to define them is inexcuſable. In common lan⯑guage, and in common apprehenſion, luxury al⯑ways implies a faulty exceſs; and upon that account is condemned by all writers, ſuch only excepted as affect to be ſingular.

This is clearly one branch of the definition of luxury. Another is, that the exceſs muſt be habi⯑tual: a ſingle act of intemperance, however faulty, is not denominated luxury: reiteration muſt be ſo frequent as to become a confirmed habit.

Nor are theſe particulars all that enter into the definition of luxury. There are many pleaſures, however intemperate or habitual, that are not brand⯑ed with that odious name. Mental pleaſure, ſuch as ariſes from ſentiment or reaſoning, falls not with⯑in the verge of luxury, to whatever exceſs indulged. If to relieve merit in diſtreſs be luxury, it is only ſo in a metaphorical ſenſe: nor is it deemed luxury in a damſel of fifteen to peruſe love-novels from morn⯑ing to evening. Luxury is confined to the external ſenſes: nor does it belong to every one of theſe; the fine arts have no relation to luxury. A man is not even ſaid to be luxurious, merely for indulging in dreſs, or in fine furniture. Hollinſhed inveighs [130] againſt drinking-glaſſes as an article of luxury. At that rate, a houſe adorned with fine pictures or ſta⯑tues would be an imputation on the proprietor. Thus paſſing in review every pleaſure of external ſenſe, we find, that in proper language the term luxury is not applicable to any pleaſure of the eye or ear. That term is confined to the pleaſures of taſte, touch, and ſmell, which appear as exiſting at the organ of ſenſe, and upon that account are held to be merely corporeal^g.

Having thus circumſcribed our ſubject within its proper bounds, the important point that remains to be aſcertained is, Whether we have any rule for determining what exceſs in corporeal pleaſure may juſtly be denominated faulty. About that point we are at no loſs. Though our preſent life be a ſtate of trial, yet our Maker has kindly indulged us in every pleaſure that is not hurtful to the mind, or to the body; and therefore it can only be hurtful ex⯑ceſs that falls under the cenſure of being luxurious. It is faulty as a tranſgreſſion of ſelf-duty; and as ſuch it is condemned by the moral ſenſe. The moſt violent declaimer againſt luxury will not affirm, that bread is luxury, or a ſnow-ball uſed for a pillow; for theſe are innocent, becauſe they do no harm. As little will it be affirmed, that dwelling-houſes more capacious than thoſe originally built ought to be condemned as luxury, ſince they contribute to chearfulneſs as well as to health. The plague, ſome centuries ago, made frequent viſits in London, promoted by air ſtagnating in narrow ſtreets, and ſmall houſes. After the great fire anno 1666, the houſes and ſtreets were enlarged, and the plague has not once been known in London.

Man conſiſts of ſoul and body, ſo intimately con⯑nected, that the one cannot be at eaſe while the [131] other ſuffers. In order to have ‘"mens ſana in corpore ſano,"’ it is neceſſary to ſtudy the health of both: bodily health ſupports the mind; and nothing tends more than chearfulneſs to ſupport the body, even under a diſeaſe. To preſerve this complicated ma⯑chine in order, certain exerciſes are proper for the body, and certain for the mind; which ought ne⯑ver to encroach the one on the other. Much mo⯑tion and bodily exerciſe tend to make us robuſt; but in the mean time the mind is ſtarved: much reading and reflection ſortify the mind, but in the mean time the body is ſtarved. Nor is this all: exceſs in either is deſtructive to both; for exerciſe too violent, whether of mind or body, wears the machine. Indolence, on the other hand, relaxes the machine, and renders it weak or languid. Bo⯑dily indolence breeds the gout, the gravel, and ma⯑ny other diſeaſes: nor is mental indolence leſs per⯑nicious, for it breeds peeviſhneſs and puſillanimity. Thus health both of mind and body is beſt preſerved by moderate exerciſe. And hence a general propo⯑ſition, That every indulgence in corporeal pleaſure, which favours either too violent or too languid ex⯑erciſe, whether of mind or body, is hurtful, and conſequently is luxury in its proper ſenſe. It is ſcarce neceſſary to be added, that every ſuch indul⯑gence is condemned by the moral ſenſe; for every man can bear teſtimony of this from what he him⯑ſelf feels.

Too great indulgence in corporeal pleaſure ſeldom prompts violent exerciſe; but inſtances are without number of its relaxing even that moderate degree of exerciſe which is healthful both to mind and body. This in particular is the caſe of too great indulgence in eating or drinking: ſuch indulgence creates an habitual appetite, which demanding more than na⯑ture requires, loads the ſtomach, depreſſes the ſpi⯑rits, and brings on a habit of liſtleſſneſs and inacti⯑vity, [132] which renders men cowardly and effeminate^*. And what does the epicure gain by ſuch exceſs? In the grandeſt palace the maſter occupies not a greater ſpace than his meaneſt domeſtic; and brings to his moſt ſumptuous feaſt perhaps leſs appetite than any of his gueſts. Satiety withal makes him loſe the reliſh even of rarities, which afford to others a poignant pleaſure. What enjoyment then have the opulent above others? Let them beſtow their riches in making others happy: ſuch benevolence will double their own happineſs, firſt, in the direct act of doing good; and next, in reflecting upon the good they have done, the moſt delicate of all feaſts.

Had the Engliſh continued Pagans, they would have invented a new deity to preſide over cookery. I ſay it with regret, but muſt ſay it, that a luxuri⯑ous table, covered with every dainty, ſeems to be their favourite idol. A miniſter of ſtate never with⯑ſtands a feaſt; and the link that unites thoſe in op⯑poſition is, the cramming one another^†. I ſhall not be ſurpriſed to hear, that the cramming a miſ⯑treſs has become the moſt faſhionable mode of court⯑ſhip. That ſort of luxury is not unknown in their univerſities; and it is perhaps the only branch of education that ſeldom proves abortive. It has not eſcaped obſervation, that between the years 1740 and 1770 no fewer than ſix mayors of London died in office, a greater number than in the preceding 500 years: ſuch havock doth luxury in eating make [133] among the ſons of Albion. How different the man⯑ners of their forefathers! Bonduca their Queen, ready to engage the Romans in a pitched battle, encouraged her army with a pathetic ſpeech, urg⯑ing in particular the following conſideration: ‘"The great advantage we have over them is, that they cannot, like us, bear hunger, thirſt, heat, nor cold. They muſt have fine bread, wine, and warm houſes: every herb and root ſatisfies our hunger; water ſupplies the want of wine; and every tree is to us a warm houſe^{h *}."’

The indulging in down-beds, ſoft pillows, and eaſy ſeats, is a ſpecies of luxury, becauſe it tends to enervate the body, and to render, it unfit for fatigue. Some London ladies employ an operator for pairing their nails. Two young women of high quality, who were ſiſters, employed a ſervant with ſoft hands to raiſe them gently out of bed in a morning. Nothing leſs than all-powerful vanity can make ſuch perſons ſubmit to the fatigues of a toilet: how can they ever think of ſubmitting to the horrid pangs of child-bearing? In the hot cli⯑mates of Aſia, people of rank are rubbed and chaf⯑fed twice a-day; which, beſide being pleaſant, is neceſſary for health, by moving the blood, in a hot country, where ſloth and indolence prevail. The Greeks and Romans were curried, bathed, and oiled, daily; though they had not the ſame ex⯑cuſe for that practice: it was luxury in them, though not in the Aſiatics.

[134] With reſpect to exerciſe, the various machines that have been invented for executing every ſort of work, render bodily ſtrength of leſs importance than formerly. This change is favourable to men⯑tal operations, without hurting bodily health. The travelling on horſeback, though a leſs vigorous ex⯑ertion of ſtrength than walking, is not luxury, be⯑cauſe it is a healthful exerciſe. I dare not ſay ſo much for wheel-carriages: a ſpring-coach, rolling along a ſmooth road, gives no exerciſe; or ſo little, as to be preventive of no diſeaſe: it tends to ener⯑vate the body, and in ſome meaſure alſo the mind. The increaſe of wheel-carriages within a century is a pregnant proof of the growth of luxurious in⯑dolence. During the reign of James I. the Engliſh judges rode to Weſtminſter on horſeback, and probably did ſo for many years after his death. Charles I. iſſued a proclamation, prohibiting hack⯑ney-coaches to be uſed in London, except by thoſe who travel at leaſt three miles out of town. At the reſtoration, Charles II. made his public entry into London on horſeback, between his two bro⯑thers, Dukes of York and Glouceſter. We have Ruſhworth for our voucher, that in London, not above a hundred years ago, there were but twenty hackney-coaches; which at the ſame time did not ply on the ſtreets, but were kept at home till called for. He adds, that the King and Council publiſh⯑ed a proclamation againſt them, becauſe they raiſed the price of provender upon the King, nobility, and gentry. At preſent, one thouſand hackney-coaches ply on the ſtreets of London, beſide a great number of ſtage-coaches for travelling from Lon⯑don to all parts of the kingdom. The firſt coach with glaſſes in France was brought from Bruſſels to Paris, anno 1650, by the Prince of Condé. Sedan⯑chairs were not known in England before the year 1634. Cookery and coaches have reduced the mi⯑litary [135] ſpirit of the Engliſh nobility and gentry to a languid ſtate: the former, by overloading the bo⯑dy, has infected them with diſpiriting ailments; the latter, by foſtering eaſe and indolence, have baniſhed labour, the only antidote to ſuch ailments. Too great indulgence in the fine arts conſumes part of that time which ought to be employed on the important duties of life: but the fine arts, even when too much indulged, produce one good effect, which is, to ſoften and humanize our manners: nor do they harm the body, if they relax not that degree of exerciſe which is neceſſary for ſupporting it in health and vigour.

The enervating effects of luxury upon the body are, above all, remarkable in war. The officers of Alexander's army were ſoon tainted with Aſiatic manners. Moſt of them, after bathing, had ſer⯑vants for rubbing them, and, inſtead of plain oil, uſed precious ointments. Leonatus, in particular, commiſſioned from Egypt the powder he uſed when he wreſtled, which loaded ſeveral camels. Alexan⯑der reproved them mildly: ‘"I wonder that men who have undergone ſuch fatigues in war, are not taught by experience, that labour produces ſweeter and ſounder ſleep than indolence. To be voluptuous, is an abject and ſlaviſh ſtate. How can a man take care of his horſe, or keep his armour bright, who diſdains to em⯑ploy his own hands upon what is deareſt to him, his own bodyⁱ?"’

When we attend to the mind ſingly, manifold are the pernicious effects of luxury. Corporeal pleaſures, being all of them ſelfiſh, tend, when much indulged, to make ſelfiſhneſs the leading principle. Voluptuouſneſs, accordingly, relaxing [136] every ſympathetic affection brings on a beaſtly ſel⯑fiſhneſs, which leaves nothing of man but the exter⯑nal figure. Luxury, beſide, renders the mind ſo effeminate, as to be ſubdued by every diſtreſs: the ſlighteſt pain, whether of mind or body, is a real evil: and any higher degree becomes a ſevere tor⯑ture. The French are far gone in that diſeaſe. Pictures of deep diſtreſs, which attract Engliſh ſpectators, are, to the French, inſupportable: their averſion to pain overcomes the attractive power of ſympathy, and debars from the ſlage every diſtreſs that makes a deep impreſſion on the heart. The Britiſh are gradually ſinking into the ſame weakneſs of mind: Venice Preſerved collects not ſuch numbers as it did originally; and would ſcarce be endured at preſent, were not our ſym⯑pathy blunted by familiarity: a new play upon a ſimilar plan would not take. The gradual decay of manhood in Britain appears from their fune⯑ral rites. Formerly the deceaſed were attended to the grave by relations and friends of both ſexes, and the day of their death was preſerved in re⯑membrance with ſolemn lamentations, as the day of their birth was, with exhilerating cups. In England a man was firſt relieved from attending his deceaſed wiſe to the grave, and afterward from attending his deceaſed children; and now ſuch ef⯑feminacy of mind prevails there, that inſtantly upon the leaſt groan, the deceaſed, abandoned by every relation, is delivered to an undertaker by profeſſion, who is left at leiſure to mimick the funeral rites. In Scotland, ſuch refinement has not yet taken place: a man is indeed excuſed from attend⯑ing his wife to the grave; but he performs that duty in perſon to every other relation, his children not excepted. I am told, that people of high faſhion in England begin to leave the care of [137] their ſick relations to hired nurſes, and think they do their duty in making ſhort viſits from time to time.

Hitherto I have conſidered Luxury with re⯑ſpect to thoſe only who are infected with it; and did its poiſonous effects ſpread no wider, the caſe perhaps would be the leſs deplorable. But unhap⯑pily, where luxury prevails, the innocent ſuffer with the guily. A man of oeconomy, whether a merchant or manufacturer, lays up a ſtock for his children, and adds uſeful members to the ſtate. A man, on the contrary, who lives above his for⯑tune, or his profits, accuſtoms his children to luxury, and abandons them to poverty when he dies. Luxury, at the ſame time, is a great ene⯑my to population: it enhances the expence of liv⯑ing, and confines many to the bachelor-ſtate. Luxu⯑ry of the table, in particular, is remarkable for that effect: ‘"L'homme riche met toute ſa gloire à conſommer, toute ſa grandeur à perdre en un jour à ſa table plus de biens qu'il n'en faudroit pour faire ſubſiſter pluſieurs familles. Il abuſe également et des animaux et des hommes; dont le reſte demeure affamé, languit dans la misére, et ne travaille que pour ſatisfaire, à l'appétit immodéré, et à la vanité encore plus inſatiable, de cet homme; qui detruiſant les autres par la diſette, ſe detruit lui-même par les exces^{k *}."’

[138] To conſider luxury in a political view, no re⯑finement of dreſs, of the table, of equipage, of habitation, is luxury in thoſe who can afford the expence; and the public gains by the encourage⯑ment that is given to arts, manufactures, and com⯑merce. But a mode of living above a man's an⯑nual income, weakens the ſtate, by reducing to poverty, not only the ſquanderers themſelves, but many innocent and induſtrious perſons connected with them. Luxury is above all pernicious in a commercial ſtate. A perſon of moderation is ſatis⯑fied with ſmall profits: not ſo the luxurious, who deſpiſe every branch of trade but what returns great profits: other branches are ingroſſed by foreigners, who are more frugal. The merchants of Amſterdam, and even of London, within a century, lived with more oeconomy than their clerks do at preſent. Their country houſes and gardens make not the greateſt articles of their ex⯑pence. At firſt, a merchant retires to his country-houſe, on Sundays only and holydays: but begin⯑ning to reliſh indolent retirement, buſineſs grows irkſome, he truſts all to his clerks, loſes the thread of his affairs, ſees no longer with his own eyes, and is now in the high way to perdition. Every croſs accident makes him totter; and in labouring circumſtances he is tempted to venture all, in hopes of re-eſtabliſhment. He falls at laſt to downright gaming; which, ſetting conſcience aſide, is a pru⯑dent meaſure: he riſks only the money of his creditors, for he himſelf has nothing to loſe: it is now with him, ‘"Caeſar aut nihil^†."’ Such a man never falls without involving many in his ruin.

[139] The bad effects of luxury, above diſplayed, are not the whole, nor indeed the moſt deſtructive. In all times, luxury has been the ruin of every ſtate where it prevailed. But that more important branch of the ſubject is reſerved to particular ſketches, where it will make a better figure.

In the ſavage ſtate, man is almoſt all body, with a very ſmall proportion of mind. In the maturity of civil ſociety, he is complete both in mind and body. In a ſtate of degeneracy by luxu⯑ry and voluptuouſneſs, he has neither mind nor body^*.

SKETCH I.
Appetite for SOCIETY.—Origin of NATIONAL SOCIETIES.

THAT there is in man an appetite for ſociety, never was called in queſtion^*. But to what end the appetite ſerves, whether it be in any man⯑ner [142] limitted, and how far men are naturally fitted for being uſeful members of civil ſociety, and for being happy in it, are queſtions that open exten⯑ſive views into human nature, and yet have been little attended to by writers. I grieve at the ne⯑glect, becauſe the preſent enquiry requires an an⯑ſwer to theſe queſtions, however abſtruſe.

As many animals, beſide man, are ſocial, it ap⯑peared to me probable, that the ſocial laws by which ſuch animals are governed, might open views into the ſocial nature of man. But here I met with a ſecond diſappointment: for after peruſing books without end, I found very little ſatisfaction; though the laws of animal ſociety make the moſt inſtruc⯑tive and moſt entertaining part of natural hiſtory. A few dry facts, collected occaſionally, enabled me to form the embryo of a plan, which I here pre⯑ſent to the reader: if his curioſity be excited, 'tis well; for I am far from expecting that it will be gratified.

Animals of prey have no appetite for ſociety, if the momentary act of copulation be not excepted. Wolves make not an exception, even where, inſti⯑gated by hunger, they join in attacking a village: as fear prevents them ſingly from an attempt ſo ha⯑zardous, their caſual union is prompted by appe⯑tite for food, not by appetite for ſociety. So little of the ſocial is there in wolves, that if one happens to be wounded, he is put to death, and devoured by thoſe of his own kind. Vultures have the ſame diſpoſition. Their ordinary food is a dead carcaſe; [143] and they never venture but in a body to attack any living creature that appears formidable. Upon ſo⯑ciety happineſs ſo much depends, that we do not willingly admit a lion, a tyger, a bear, or a wolf, to have any appetite for ſociety. And in with-hold⯑ing it from ſuch animals, the goodneſs of Provi⯑dence to its favourite man, is conſpicuous: their ſtrength, agility, and voracity, make them ſingly not a little formidable: I ſhould tremble for the hu⯑man race, were they diſpoſed to make war in com⯑pany^*.

[144] Such harmleſs animals as cannot defend them⯑ſelves ſingly, are provided with an appetite for ſo⯑ciety, that they may defend themſelves in a body. Sheep are remarkable in that reſpect, when left to nature: a ram ſeldom attacks; but the rams of a flock exert great vigour in defending their females and their young^*. The whole ſociety of rooks join in attacking a kite when it hovers about them. A family of wild ſwine never ſeparate till the young be ſufficiently ſtrong to defend themſelves againſt the wolf; and when the wolf threatens, they all join in a body. The pecary is a ſort of wild hog in the iſthmus of Darien: if one of them be attacked, the reſt run to aſſiſt it. There being a natural anti⯑pathy [145] between that animal and the American tyger, it is not uncommon to find a tyger ſlain with a num⯑ber of dead pecaries round him.

The ſocial appetite is to ſome animals uſeful, not only for deſence, but for procuring the neceſſaries of life. Society among beavers is a notable inſtance of both. As water is the only refuge of that in⯑nocent ſpecies againſt an enemy, they inſtinctively make their ſettlement on the brink of a lake or of a running ſtream. In the latter caſe, they keep up the water to a proper height by a dam-dike, con⯑ſtructed with ſo much art as to withſtand the great⯑eſt ſloods: in the former, they ſave themſelves the labour of a dam-dike, becauſe a lake generally keeps at the ſame height. Having thus provided for de⯑fence, their next care is to provide food and habi⯑tation. The whole ſociety join in erecting the dam-dike; and they alſo join in erecting houſes. Each houſe has two apartments: in the upper there is ſpace for lodging from ſix to ten beavers: the un⯑der holds their proviſions, which are trees cut down by united labour, and divided into ſmall portable parts^a. Bees are a ſimilar inſtance. Ariſto⯑tle^b ſays, ‘"that bees are the only animals which labour in common, have a houſe in common, eat in common, and have their offspring in com⯑mon."’ A ſingle bee would be ſtill leſs able than a ſingle beaver to build a houſe for itſelf and for its winter-food. The Alpine rat or marmount has no occaſion to ſtore up food for winter, becauſe it lies benumbed without motion all the cold months. But theſe animals live in tribes; and each tribe digs a habitation under ground with great art, ſuffi⯑ciently capacious for lodging the whole tribe; co⯑vering [146] the ground with withered graſs, which ſome cut, and others carry. The wild dogs of Congo and Angola hunt in packs, waging perpetual war againſt other wild beaſts. They bring to the place of rendezvous whatever is caught in hunting; and each receives its ſhare^*. The baboons are ſocial animals, and avail themſelves of that quality in procuring food; witneſs their addreſs in robbing an orchard, deſcribed by Kolben in his account of the Cape of Good Hope. Some go into the orchard, ſome place themſelves on the wall, the reſt form a line on the outſide, and the fruit is thrown from hand to hand, till it reach the place of rendezvous. Extending the enquiry to all known animals, we find that the appetite for ſociety is with-held from no ſpecies to which it is neceſſary, whether for de⯑fence or for food. It appears to be diſtributed by weight and meaſure, in order to accommodate the internal frame of animals to their external circum⯑ſtances.

On ſome animals an appetite for ſociety is be⯑ſtowed, though in appearance not neceſſary either for defence or for food. With regard to ſuch, the only final cauſe we can diſcover is the pleaſure of living in ſociety. That kind of ſociety is found among horſes. Outhier, one of the French aca⯑demicians employed to meaſure a degree of the me⯑ridian toward the north pole, reports, that at Tor⯑neo all bulky goods are carried in boats during ſum⯑mer; but in winter, when the rivers are frozen, and the ground covered with ſnow, that they uſe ſledges drawn by horſes; that when the ſnow melts, and the rivers are open, the horſes, ſet looſe, ren⯑dezvous [147] at a certain part of the foreſt, where they ſeparate into troops, and occupy different paſture⯑fields; that when theſe fields become bare, they occupy new ground in the ſame order as at firſt; that they return home in troops when the bad wea⯑ther begins; and that every horſe knows its own ſtall. No creature ſtands leſs in need of ſociety than a hare, whether for food or for defence. Of food, it has plenty under its feet; and for defence, it is provided both with cunning and ſwiſtneſs. No⯑thing however is more common in a moon-light night, than to ſee hares ſporting together in the moſt ſocial manner. But ſociety for pleaſure only, is an imperfect kind of ſociety; and far from being ſo intimate, as where it is provided by nature for defence, or for procuring food^*.

With reſpect to the extent of the appetite, no ſocial animal, as far as can be diſcovered, has an ap⯑petite for aſſociating with the whole ſpecies. Eve⯑ry ſpecies is divided into many ſmall tribes; and theſe tribes have no appetite for aſſociating with each other: on the contrary, a ſtray ſheep is thruſt out of the flock, and a ſtray bee muſt inſtantly re⯑tire, or be ſtung to death. Every work of Provi⯑dence contributes to ſome good end: a ſmall tribe [148] is ſufficient for mutual defence; and a very large tribe would find difficulty in procuring ſubſiſtence.

How far brute animals are by nature fitted for being uſeful members of civil ſociety, and for being happy in it, is a queſtion that no writer hath ſo much as ſtumbled on. And yet, as that branch of natural hiſtory is alſo neceſſary to my plan, I muſt proceed; tho' I have nothing to lay before the reader but a few ſcattered obſervations, which oc⯑curred when I had no view of turning them to ac⯑count. I begin with the inſtinctive conduct of animals, in providing againſt danger. When a flock of ſheep, in the ſtate of nature, goes to reſt, centinels are appointed; who, on appearance of an enemy, ſtamp with the foot, and make a hiſſing ſound; upon which all take the alarm: if no enemy appear, they watch their time, return to the ſlock, and ſend out others in their ſtead. And in flocks that have an extenſive range in hilly countries, the ſame diſcipline obtains, even after domeſtication. Tho' monkies ſleep upon trees, yet a centinel is al⯑ways appointed, who muſt not ſleep, under pain of being torn to pieces. They preſerve the ſame diſ⯑cipline when they rob an orchard: a centinel on a high tree is watchful to announce the very firſt ap⯑pearance of an enemy. M. Buffon, talking of a ſort of monkey, which he terms Malbrouck, ſays, that they are fond of fruit, and of ſugar-canes; and that while they are loading themſelves, one is placed centinel on a tree, who, upon the approach of a man, cries, Houp! Houp! Houp! loudly and diſ⯑tinctly. That moment they throw away the ſugar-canes that they hold in their left hand, and run off upon three feet. When the marmounts are at work in the field, one is appointed to watch on a high rock; which advertiſes them, by a loud whiſtle, when it ſees a man, an eagle, or a dog. Among beavers, notice is given of the approach of an ene⯑my, [149] by laſhing the water with the tail, which is heard in every habitation. Scale always ſleep on the beach; and to prevent ſurpriſe, centinels are placed round at a conſiderable diſtance from the main body. Wild elephants, which always travel in company, are leſs on their guard in places un⯑frequented: but when they invade cultivated fields, they march in order, the eldeſt in the front, and the next in age cloſing the rear. The weak are placed in the centre, and the females carry their young on their trunk. They attack in a body; and upon a repulſe, retire in a body. Tame elephants retain ſo much of their original nature, that if one, upon being wounded, turns its back, the reſt inſtant⯑ly follow. Next in order is the government of a tribe, and the conduct of its members to each other. It is not unlikely, that ſociety among ſome animals, and their mutual affection, may be ſo entire as to prevent all diſcord among them; which indeed ſeems to be the caſe of beavers. Such a ſociety, if there be ſuch, requires no government, nor any laws. A flock of ſheep occupies the ſame ſpot every night, and each hath its own reſting-place. The ſame is obſervable in horned cattle when folded. And as we find not, that any one ever attempts to diſ⯑lodge another, it is probable that ſuch reſtraint makes a branch of their nature. But ſociety among brute animals is not always ſo perfect. Perverſe inclinations, tending to diſturb ſociety, are viſible among ſome brute animals, as well as among ra⯑tional men. It is not uncommon for a rook to pil⯑fer ſticks from another's neſt; and the pilferer's neſt is demoliſhed by the lex talionis. Perverſe in⯑clinations require government, and government requires laws. As in the caſe now mentioned, the whole ſociety join in inflicting the puniſhment, go⯑vernment among rooks appears to be republican. Apes, on the contrary, are under monarchical go⯑vernment. [150] Apes in Siam go in troops, each under a leader, who preſerves ſtrict diſcipline. A female carnally inclined, retired from the troop, and was followed by a male. The male eſcaped from the leader, who purſued them; but the female was brought back, and in preſence of the whole troop received fifty blows on the cheek, as a chaſtiſement for its incontinence^c. But probably there are not many inſtances, among brutes, of government approaching ſo near to that of men. Government among horned cattle appears to have no other end but to preſerve order. Their government is mo⯑narchical; and the election is founded upon perſonal valour, the moſt ſolid of all qualifications in ſuch a ſociety. The bull, who aſpires to be lord of the herd, muſt fight his way to preferment; and after all his rivals are beat off the field, the herd tamely ſubmit. At the ſame time he is not ſecured in the throne for life; but muſt again enter the liſts with any bull that ventures to challenge him. The ſame ſpirit is obſervable among oxen, though in a lower degree. The maſter-ox leads the reſt into the ſta⯑ble, or into the fold, and becomes unruly if he be not let firſt out: nay, he muſt be firſt yoked in the plough or waggon. Sheep are not employed in work, but in every other reſpect the ſame oeconomy obtains among them. Where the rams happen to be few, in proportion to the other ſheep, they ſometimes divide the flock among them, inſtead of fighting for precedence. Five or ſix ſcore of ſheep were purchaſed a few years ago by the author of this work. The rams, who were only two, divided the flock between them. The two parcels could not avoid paſturing in common, becauſe they were ſhut up in one incloſure: but they had different ſpots for reſt during night; nor was it known, that a ſheep [151] ever deſerted its party, or even changed its reſting⯑place. In the two ſpecies laſt mentioned, I find not that there is any notion of puniſhment; nor does it appear to be neceſſary: the leader pretends to no⯑thing but precedence, which is never diſputed. I bluſh to preſent theſe imperſect hints, the fruit of caſual obſervation, not of intentional enquiry: but I am glad to blow the trumpet, in order to raiſe curioſity in others: if the ſubject be proſecuted by men of taſte and enquiry, many final cauſes, I am perſuaded, will be diſcovered, tending more and more to diſplay the wiſdom and goodneſs of Provi⯑dence. But what I have chiefly in view at preſent is, to obſerve, that government among brute ani⯑mals, however ſimple, appears to be perfect in its kind; and adapted with great propriety to their na⯑ture. Factions in the ſtate are unknown: no en⯑mity between individuals, no treachery, no deceit, nor any other of thoſe vices that infeſt the human race. In a word, they appear to be perfectly well fitted for that kind of ſociety to which they are prompted by their nature, and for being happy in it.

Storing up the foregoing obſervations till there be occaſion for them, we proceed to the ſocial nature of man. That men are endued with an appetite for ſociety, will be vouched by the concurring teſti⯑mony of all men, each vouching for himſelf. There is accordingly no inſtance of people living in a ſo⯑litary ſtate, where the appetite is not obſtructed by ſome potent obſtacle. The inhabitants of that part of New Holland which Dampier ſaw, live in ſocie⯑ty, though leſs advanced above brutes than any other known ſavages; and ſo intimate is their ſo⯑ciety, that they gather their food, and eat, in com⯑mon. The inhabitants of the Canary iſlands lived in the ſame manner, when firſt ſeen by Europeans, which was in the fourteenth century; and the ſa⯑vages [152] mentioned by Condamine, drawn by a Jeſuit from the woods to ſettle on the banks of the Oroo⯑noko, muſt originally have been united in ſome kind of ſociety, as they had a common language. In a word, that man hath an appetite for food, is not more certain than that he hath an appetite for ſociety. And here I have occaſion to ap⯑ply one of the obſervations made above. Abſtract⯑ing altogether from the pleaſure we have in ſociety, ſimilar to what we have in eating; evident it is, that to no animal is ſociety more neceſſary than to man, whether for food or for defence. In ſociety, he is chief of the terreſtrial creation; in a ſolitary ſtate, the moſt helpleſs and forlorn. Thus the firſt queſtion ſuggeſted above, viz. To what end was a ſocial appetite beſtowed on man, has received an anſwer, which I flatter myſelf will give ſatisfaction.

The next queſtion is, Whether the appetite be limited, as among other animals, to a ſociety of moderate extent; or whether it prompts an aſſocia⯑ation with the whole ſpecies. That the appetite is limited, will be evident from hiſtory. Men, as far back as they can be traced, have been divided in⯑to ſmall tribes or ſocieties. Moſt of theſe, it is true, have, in latter times, been united into large ſtates: ſuch revolutions however have been brought about, not by an appetite for a more extenſive ſociety, but by conqueſt, or by the junction of ſmall tribes for defence againſt the more power⯑ful. A ſociety may indeed be too ſmall for complete gratification of the appetite; and the appetite thus cramped welcomes every perſon into the ſociety till it have ſufficient ſcope: the Romans, a diminutive tribe originally, were fond to aſſociate even with their enemies after a victory. But, on the other hand, a ſociety may be too large for complete gra⯑tification. An extenſive empire is an object too bulky: national affection is too much diffuſed; and [153] the mind is not at eaſe till it finds a more contracted ſociety, correſponding to the moderation of its ap⯑petite. Hence the numerous orders, aſſociations, fraternities, and diviſions, that ſpring up in every great ſtate. The ever-during Blues and Greens in the Roman empire, and Guelphs and Gibelines in Italy, could not have long ſubſiſted after the cauſe of their enmity was at an end, but for a tendency in the members of a great ſtate to contract their ſo⯑cial connections^*. Initiations among the ancients were probably owing to the ſame cauſe; as alſo aſ⯑ſociations of artiſans among the moderns, pretend⯑ing myſtery and ſecrecy, and excluding all ſtrangers. Of ſuch aſſociations or brotherhoods, the free ma⯑ſons excepted, there is ſcarce now a veſtige remain⯑ing.

We find now, after an accurate ſcrutiny, that the ſocial appetite in man comprehends not the whole ſpecies, but a part only; and commonly a ſmall part, preciſely as in other animals. Here an⯑other final cauſe ſtarts up, no leſs remarkable than that explained above. An appetite to aſſociate with the whole ſpecies would form ſtates ſo unwieldy by numbers, as to be incapable of any government. Our appetite is wiſely confined within ſuch limits as to form ſtates of moderate extent, which of all are the beſt fitted for good government; and we ſhall ſee afterward that they are alſo the beſt fitted for improving the human powers, and for envigorating every manly virtue. Hence an inſtructive leſſon, That a great empire is ill ſuited to human nature, and that a great conqueror is in more reſpects than one an enemy to mankind.

[154] The limiting our ſocial appetite within moderate bounds ſuggeſts another final cauſe. An appetite to aſſociate with the whole ſpecies would collect into one ſociety all who are not ſeparated from each other by wide ſeas and inacceſſible mountains; and conſequently would diſtribute mankind into a very few ſocieties, conſiſting of ſuch multitudes as to reduce national affection to a mere ſhadow. Nature hath wiſely limited the appetite in proportion to our mental capacity. Our relations, our friends, and our other connections, open an extenſive field for the exerciſe of affection: nay, our country in ge⯑neral, if not too extenſive, would alone be ſufficient to engroſs our whole affection. But that beautiful ſpeculation falls more properly under the principles of morality; and there it ſhall not be overlooked.

What comes next in order, is to examine how we ſtand affected to thoſe who are not of our tribe or ſociety. I pave the way to this examination, by taking up man naked at his entrance into life. An infant at firſt has no feeling but bodily pain; and it is familiarized with its nurſe, its parents, and per⯑haps with others, before it is ſuſceptible of any paſ⯑ſion. All weak animals are endowed with a princi⯑ple of fear, which prompts them to ſhun danger; and fear, the firſt paſſion diſcovered in an infant, is raiſed by every new face: the infant ſhrinks and hides itſelf in the boſom of its nurſe^{* d}. Thus every ſtranger is an object of fear to an infant; and conſequently of averſion, which is generated by fear. Fear leſſens gradually as our circle of ac⯑quaintance enlarges, eſpecially in thoſe who rely on bodily ſtrength. Nothing tends more effectually to diſſipate fear, than conſciouſneſs of ſecurity in the [155] ſocial ſtate: in ſolitude, no animal is more timid than man; in ſociety, none more bold. But re⯑mark, that averſion may ſubſiſt after fear is gone: it is propagated from parents to their children through an endleſs ſucceſſion; and is infectious like a diſeaſe. Thus enmity is kept up between tribes, without any particular cauſe. A neighbouring tribe, conſtantly in our ſight, and capable to hurt us, is the object of our ſtrongeſt averſion: it leſſens in proportion to diſtance; and terminates in abſo⯑lute indifference with reſpect to very diſtant tribes. Upon the whole, it appears, that the nature of man with reſpect to thoſe of his own kind is reſolv⯑able into the following particulars. Firſt, Affection for our private connections, and for our country in general. Second, Averſion to neighbours who are ſtrangers to us, and to neighbouring tribes in gene⯑ral. Third, Indifference with reſpect to all others.

As I neither hope nor wiſh, that the nature of man, as above delineated, be taken upon my au⯑thority, I propoſe to verify it by clear and ſubſtan⯑tial facts. But to avoid the multiplying inſtances unneceſſarily, I ſhall confine myſelf to ſuch as con⯑cern the averſion that neighbouring tribes have to each other; taking it for granted, that private af⯑fection, and love to our country, are what no per⯑ſon doubts of. I begin with examples of rude na⯑tions, where nature is left to itſelf, without culture. The inhabitants of Greenland, good-natured and inoffenſive, have not even words for expreſſing an⯑ger or envy: ſtealing among themſelves is abhor⯑red; and a young woman guilty of that crime, has no chance for a huſband. At the ſame time, they are faithleſs and cruel to thoſe who come among them: they conſider the reſt of mankind as a diffe⯑rent race, with whom they reject all ſociety. The morality of the inhabitants of New Zealand is not more refined. Writers differ about the inhabitants of the Marian or Ladrone iſlands: Magellan, and [156] other voyagers, ſay, that they are addicted to thiev⯑ing: and their teſtimony occaſioned theſe iſlands to be called Ladrones. Pere le Gobien, on the con⯑trary, ſays, that, far from being addicted to thiev⯑ing, they leave every thing open, having no diſtruſt one of another. Theſe accounts differ in appear⯑ance, not in reality. Magellan was a ſtranger; and he talks of ſtealing from him and from his compa⯑nions. Father Gobien lived long among them, and talks of their fidelity to each other. Plan Car⯑pin, who viſited Tartary in the year 1246, obſerves of the Tartars, that, though full of veracity to their neighbours, they thought themſelves not bound to ſpeak truth to ſtrangers. The Greeks an⯑ciently were held to be pirates: but not properly; for they committed depredations upon ſtrangers on⯑ly. Caeſar, ſpeaking of the Germans^e, ſays, ‘"Latrocinia nullam habent infamiam quae extra fines cujuſque civitatis fiunt^*."’ This was pre⯑ciſely the caſe of our highlanders, till they were brought under due ſubjection after the rebel⯑lion 1745. Bougainville obſerves, that the inhabi⯑tants of Otaheite, named by the Engliſh, King-George's iſland, made no difficulty of ſtealing from his people; and yet never ſteal among themſelves, having neither locks nor bars in their houſes. The people of Benin in Negroland are good-natured, gentle, and civilized; and ſo generous, that if they receive a preſent, they are not at eaſe till they re⯑turn it double. They have unbounded confidence in their own people; but are jealous of ſtrangers, though they politely hide their jealouſy. Ruſſian peaſants think it a greater ſin to eat meat in Lent, than to murder one of another country. Among [157] the Koriacs, bordering on Kamſkatka, murder within the tribe is ſeverely puniſhed; but to murder a ſtranger is not minded. While Rome continued a ſmall ſtate, neighbour and enemy were expreſſed by the ſame word^f. In England of old, a fo⯑reigner was not admitted to be a witneſs. Hence it is that, in ancient hiſtory, we read of wars with⯑out intermiſſion among ſmall ſtates in cloſe neigh⯑bourhood. It was ſo in Greece; it was ſo in Italy during the infancy of the Roman republic; it was ſo in Gaul, when Caeſar commenced hoſtilities againſt that country^g; and it was ſo all the world over. Many iſlands in the South ſea, and in other remote parts, have been diſcovered by Europeans; who commonly found the natives with arms in their hands, reſolute to prevent the ſtrangers from land⯑ing. Orellana, lieutenant to Gonzales Piſarro, was the firſt European who ſailed down the river Ama⯑zon to the ſea. In his paſſage, he was continually aſſaulted with arrows from the banks of the river; and ſome even ventured to attack him in their ca⯑noes.

Nor does ſuch averſion wear away even among poliſhed people. An ingenious writer^h remarks, that almoſt every nation hate their neighbours, with⯑out knowing why. I once heard a Frenchman ſwear, ſays that writer, that he hated the Engliſh, parce qu'ils verſent du beurre fondu ſur leur veau roti^*. The populace of Portugal have to this day an uncommon averſion to ſtrangers: even thoſe of Liſbon, though a trading town frequented by many different nations, muſt not be excepted. Travel⯑lers report, that the people of the duchy of Milan, [158] remarkable for good-nature, are the only Italians who are not hated by their neighbours. The Pied⯑monteſe and Genoeſe have an averſion to each other, and agree only in their antipathy to the Tuſcans. The Tuſcans diſlike the Venetians; and the Ro⯑mans abound not with good-will to the Tuſcans, Venetians, or Neapolitans. Very different is the caſe with reſpect to diſtant nations: inſtead of being objects of averſion, their manners, cuſtoms, and ſingularities, amuſe us greatly^*.

Infants differ from each other in averſion to ſtran⯑gers; ſome being extremely ſhy, others leſs ſo; and the like difference is obſervable in whole tribes. The people of Milan cannot have any averſion to their neighbours, when they are ſuch favourites of all around them. The inhabitants of ſome South⯑ſea iſlands, mentioned aboveⁱ, appear to have lit⯑tle or no averſion to ſtrangers. But that is a rare inſtance, and has ſcarce a parallel in any other part of the globe. It holds alſo true, that nations the moſt remarkable for patriotiſm, are equally remark⯑able for averſion to ſtrangers. The Jews, the Greeks, the Romans, were equally remarkable for both. Patriotiſm, a vigorous principle among the Engliſh, makes them extremely averſe to naturalize foreigners. The inhabitants of New Zealand, both men and women, appear to be of a mild and gen⯑tle diſpoſition; they treat one another with affecti⯑on: [159] but are implacable to their enemies, and never give quarter. It is even cuſtomary among them to eat the fleſh of their enemies.

To a perſon of humanity, the ſcene here exhi⯑bited is far from being agreeable. Man, it may be thought, is of all animals the moſt barbarous; for even animals of prey are innoxious with reſpect to their own kind^*. Averſion to ſtrangers makes a branch of our nature: it exiſts among individuals in private life; it flames high between neighbouring tribes; and is viſible even in infancy. Can ſuch perverſity of diſpoſition promote any good end? This queſtion, which pierces deep into human na⯑ture, is reſerved to cloſe the preſent ſketch.

From the foregoing deduction, univerſal bene⯑volence, inculcated by ſeveral writers as a moral duty, is diſcovered to be erroneous. Our appetite for ſociety is limitted, and our duty muſt be limit⯑ted in proportion. But of this more directly when the principles of morality are taken under conſide⯑ration.

We are taught by the great Newton, that attrac⯑tion and repulſion in matter are, by alteration of circumſtances, converted one into the other. This holds alſo in affection and averſion, which may be [160] termed, not improperly, mental attraction and re⯑pulſion. Two nations, originally ſtrangers to each other, may, by commerce, or other favourable circumſtance, become ſo well acquainted, as to change from averſion to affection. The oppoſite manners of a capital and of a country-town afford a good illuſtration. In the latter, people, occupied with their domeſtic concerns, are in a manner ſtrangers to each other: a degree of averſion pre⯑vails, which gives birth to envy and detraction. In the former, a court, with public amuſements, pro⯑mote general acquaintance: repulſion yields to at⯑traction, and people become fond to aſſociate with their equals. The union of two tribes into one, is another circumſtance that converts repulſion into at⯑traction. Such converſion, however, is far from being inſtantaneous; witneſs the different ſmall ſtates of Spain, which were not united in affection for many years after they were united under one mo⯑narch; and this was alſo the caſe of the two king⯑doms of England and Scotland. In ſome circum⯑ſtances the converſion is inſtantaneous; as where a ſtranger becomes an object of pity or of gratitude. Many low perſons in Britain contributed chearfully for maintaining ſome French ſeamen, made priſon⯑ers at the commencement of the late war. It is no leſs inſtantaneous, when ſtrangers, relying on our humanity, truſt themſelves in our hands. Among the ancients, it was hoſpitality to ſtrangers only that produced mutual affection and gratitude: Glaucus and Diomede were of different countries. Hoſpita⯑lity to ſtrangers is a pregnant ſymptom of improving manners. Caeſar, ſpeaking of the Germans^k, ſays, ‘"Hoſpites violare, fas non putant: qui, qua-qua de cauſa, ad eos venerunt, ab injuria prohi⯑bent, ſanctoſque habent; iis omnium domus pa⯑tent, [161] victuſque communicatur^*."’ The ancient Spaniards were fond of war, and cruel to their ene⯑mies; but in peace, they paſſed their time in ſing⯑ing and dancing, and were remarkably hoſpitable to the ſtrangers who came among them. It ſhews great refinement in the Celtae, that the killing a ſtranger was capital, when the killing a citizen was baniſhment only^l. The Swedes and Goths were eminently hoſpitable to ſtrangers; as indeed were all the northern nations of Europe^m. The ne⯑groes of Fouli are celebrated by travellers as ex⯑tremely kind to ſtrangers. The native Brazilians are ſingularly hoſpitable. A ſtranger no ſooner ar⯑rives among them than he is ſurrounded with wo⯑men, who waſh his feet, and ſet before him to eat the beſt things they have. If a ſtranger have occa⯑ſion to go more than once to the ſame village, the perſon whoſe gueſt he was takes it much amiſs if he thinks of changing his lodging.

There are cauſes that for a time ſuſpend enmity between neighbouring ſtates. The ſmall ſtates of Greece, among whom war had no end, frequently ſmothered their enmity to join againſt the formida⯑ble monarch of Perſia. There are alſo cauſes that ſuſpend for a time all animoſity between factions in the ſame ſtate. The endleſs factions in Britain about power and pre-eminence, not a little diſa⯑greeable during peace, are laid aſleep during a fo⯑reign war.

On the other hand, attraction is converted into repulſion by various cauſes. One is, the ſplitting a [162] great monarchy into many ſmall ſtates; of which the Aſſyrian, the Perſian, the Roman, and the Sa⯑racen empires, are inſtances. The amor patriae, faint in an extenſive monarchy, readily yields to averſion, operating between two neighbouring ſtates, leſs extenſive. This is obſervable between neighbouring colonies even of the ſame nation: the Engliſh colonies in North America, though they re⯑tain ſome affection for their mother-country, have contracted an averſion to each other. And happy for them is ſuch averſion, if it prevent their uniting in order to acquire independency: wars without end would be the inevitable conſequence, as among ſmall ſtates in cloſe neighbourhood.

Hitherto the road has been ſmooth, without ob⯑ſtruction. But we have not yet finiſhed our jour⯑ney; and the remaining queſtion, viz. How far are men fitted by their nature for being uſeful members of civil ſociety, and for being happy in it, will, I ſuſpect, lead into a road neither ſmooth nor free from obſtruction. The ſocial branch of human na⯑ture would be wofully imperfect, if man had an ap⯑petite for ſociety without being fitted for that ſtate; the appetite, inſtead of tending to a good end, would be his bane. And yet, whether he be or be not fitted for ſociety, ſeems doubtful. In examin⯑ing the conduct of man, he is to us a diſguſtful ob⯑ject in his averſion to thoſe of a different tribe; and I violently ſuſpect, that in his behaviour even to thoſe of his own tribe, he will ſcarce be found an agreeable object. That he is fitted by nature for being an uſeful member of a ſocial ſtate, and for being happy in it, appears from facts many and va⯑rious. I inſtance firſt, ſeveral correſponding prin⯑ciples or propenſities, that cannot be exerted nor gratified but in ſociety, viz. the propenſities of ve⯑racity, and of relying on human teſtimony; appe⯑tite for knowledge, and deſire to communicate [163] knowledge; anxiety in diſtreſs to be pitied, and ſympathy with the diſtreſſed; appetite for praiſe, and inclination to praiſe the deſerving^†. Such cor⯑reſponding propenſities not only qualify men for the ſocial ſtate as far as their influence reaches, but attract them ſweetly into ſociety for the ſake of gra⯑tification, and make them happy in it. But this is not all, nor indeed the greater part. Do not bene⯑volence, compaſſion, magnanimity, heroiſm, and the whole train of ſocial affections, demonſtrate our fitneſs for ſociety, and our happineſs in it? And juſtice, above all other virtues, promotes peace and concord in that ſtate. Nor ought the faculty of ſpeech to be overlooked, which in an eminent de⯑gree qualifies man for ſociety, and is a plentiful ſource of enjoyment in it.

On the other hand, there are facts, not fewer in number, nor leſs various, tending to evince, that man is ill fitted for ſociety, and that there is little happineſs for him in it. What can be more averſe to concord in ſociety than diſſocial paſſions? and yet theſe prevail among men. Are not envy, malice, revenge, treachery, deceit, avarice, ambition, &c. &c. noxious weeds that poiſon ſociety? We meet every where perſons bent on the deſtruction of others, evincing that man has no enemies more for⯑midable than of his own kind, and of his own tribe. Are not diſcord and feuds the chief articles in the hiſtory of every ſtate, factions violently bent againſt each other, and frequently breaking out into civil wars? Appian's hiſtory of the civil wars of Rome exhibits a horrid ſcene of maſſacres, proſcriptions, and forfeitures; the leaders ſacrificing their firmeſt [164] friends, for liberty to ſuck the blood of their ene⯑mies; as if to ſhed human blood was the ruling paſſion of man. But the Romans were far from being ſingular: the polite Greeks, commonly ſo characterized, were ſtill more brutal and bloody. The following paſſage is copied from a celebrated authorⁿ. ‘"Not to mention Dionyſius the elder, who is computed to have butchered in cold blood above 10,000 of his fellow-citizens; nor Aga⯑thocles, Nabis, and others, ſtill more bloody than he; the tranſactions even in free govern⯑ments were extremely violent and deſtructive. At Athens, the thirty tyrants, and the nobles, in a twelvemonth, murdered without trial about 1200 of the people, and baniſhed above the half of the citizens that remained. In Argos, near the ſame time, the people killed 1200 of the no⯑bles, and afterwards their own demagogues, be⯑cauſe they had refuſed to carry their proſecutions farther. The people alſo in Corcyra killed 1500 of the nobles, and baniſhed 1000. Theſe num⯑bers will appear the more ſurpriſing, if we con⯑ſider the extreme ſmallneſs of thoſe ſtates. But all ancient hiſtory is full of ſuch inſtances."’ Up⯑on a revolution in the Saracen empire, ann. 750, where the Ommiyan family was expelled by that of the Abaſſians, Abdolah, chief of the latter, pub⯑liſhed an act of oblivion to the former, on condition of their taking an oath of allegiance to him. The Ommiyans, embracing the condition, were in ap⯑pearance graciouſly received. But in preparing to take the oath, they were knocked down every one of them by the Emperor's guards. And fully to glut the monſter's cruelty, theſe princes, ſtill alive, were laid cloſe together, and covered with boards and carpets; upon which Abdolah feaſted his offi⯑cers, [165] ‘"in order,"’ ſaid he, ‘"that we may be ex⯑hilarated with the dying groans of the Ommi⯑yans."’ During the vigour of the feudal ſyſtem, when every man was a ſoldier who aſpired to be a gentleman, juſtice was no defence againſt power, nor humanity againſt bloody reſentment. Stormy paſſions raged every where with unrelenting fury; every place a chaos of confuſion and diſtreſs. No man was ſecure but in his caſtle; and to venture abroad unleſs well armed, and well attended, would have been an act of high temerity. So little inter⯑courſe was there among the French in the tenth century, that an abbot of Clugni, invited by the Count of Paris to bring ſome monks to the abbey of St. Maur, near that city, excuſed himſelf for declining a journey through a ſtrange and unknown country. In the hiſtory of Scotland, during the minority of James II. we find nothing but barba⯑rous and cruel manners, depredations, burning of houſes, bloodſhed and maſſacre without end. Pit⯑ſcottie ſays, that oppreſſion, theft, ſacrilege, ra⯑viſhing of women, were but a dalliance. How ſimilar to beaſts of prey ſet looſe againſt each other in the Roman Circus!

Men are prone to ſplit into parties for the very ſlighteſt cauſes; and when a cauſe is wanting, par⯑ties are often formed upon words merely. Whig and Tory ſubſiſted long in England, upon no better foundation. The Tories profeſſed paſſive obedi⯑ence; but declared, that they would not be ſlaves. The Whigs profeſſed reſiſtance; but declared it un⯑lawful to reſiſt unleſs to prevent the being madeſlaves. Had theſe parties been diſpoſed to unite, they ſoon would have diſcovered, that they differed in words only. The ſame obſervation is applicable to many religious diſputes. One ſect maintains, that we are ſaved by faith alone; another, that good works are neceſſary. The difference lies merely in words. The firſt acknowledges, that if a man commit ſin, [166] he cannot have faith; and conſequently under faith are comprehended good works. The other ac⯑knowledges, that good works imply good intention, or, in other words, faith; and conſequently, un⯑der good works faith is comprehended^o. The fol⯑lowing inſtance, ſolemnly ludicrous, is of parties formed merely from an inclination to differ, without any cauſe real or verbal. No people were leſs inte⯑reſted in the late war between the Queen of Hun⯑gary and the King of Pruſſia, than the citizens of Ravenna. They however ſplit into two parties, which renounced all ſociety with each other. After the battle of Roſbach, a leading partyman withdrew for a month, without once ſhowing his face in pub⯑lic. But our catalogue is not yet complete. Dif⯑ferences concerning civil matters make no figure compared with what concerns religion. It is lament⯑able to obſerve, that religious ſects reſemble neigh⯑bouring ſtates; the nearer they are to one another, the greater is their rancour and animoſity. But as all hiſtories are full of the cruelty and deſolation oc⯑caſioned by differences in religious tenets, I cannot bear to dwell longer upon ſuch horrid ſcenes.

What concluſion are we to draw from the fore⯑going facts, ſo inconſiſtent in appearance with each other? I am utterly at a loſs to reconcile them, otherwiſe than by holding man to be a compound of principles and paſſions, ſome ſocial, ſome diſſocial. Oppoſite principles or paſſions cannot at the ſame inſtant be exerted upon the ſame object^p; but they may be exerted at the ſame inſtant upon diffe⯑rent objects, and at different times upon the ſame object. This obſervation ſerves indeed to explain a ſeeming inconſiſtency in our nature, as being at [167] one time highly ſocial, and at another time no leſs diſſocial: but it affords not a ſolution to the queſ⯑tion, Whether, upon the whole, men be fitted for ſociety, and for being happy in it. In order to a ſo⯑lution, we find it neceſſary to take a ſecond view of the natural hiſtory of man.

In a naſcent ſociety, where men hunt and fiſh in common, where there is plenty of game, and where the ſenſe of property is faint, mutual affec⯑tion prevails, becauſe there is no cauſe of diſcord; and diſſocial paſſions find ſufficient vent againſt neighbouring tribes. Such is the condition of the North-American ſavages, who continue hunters and fiſhers to this day; and ſuch is the condition of all brute animals that live in ſociety, as mentioned above. The iſland Otaheite is divided into many ſmall cantons, having each a chief of its own. Theſe cantons never make war on each other, tho' they are frequently at war with the inhabitants of neigh⯑bouring iſlands. The inhabitants of the new Philip⯑pine iſlands, if Father Gobien be credited, are bet⯑ter fitted for ſociety than any other known nation. Sweetneſs of temper, and love to do good, form their character. They never commit acts of violence: war they have no notion of; and it is a proverb among them, That a man never puts a man to death. Plato places the ſeat of juſtice and of happi⯑neſs among the firſt men; and among them exiſted the golden age, if it ever did exiſt. But when a nation, becoming populous, begins with rearing flocks and herds, proceeds to appropriate land, and is not ſatisfied without matters of luxury over and above; ſelfiſhneſs and pride gain ground, and be⯑come ruling and unruly paſſions. Cauſes of diſcord multiply, vent is given to avarice and reſentment; and among a people not yet perfectly ſubmiſſive to government, diſſocial paſſions rage, and threaten a total diſſolution of ſociety: nothing indeed ſuſpends the impending blow, but the unwearied, though ſi⯑lent, [168] operation of the ſocial appetite. Such was the condition of the Greeks at a certain period of their progreſs, as mentioned above; and ſuch was the condition of Europe, and of France in particu⯑lar, during the anarchy of the feudal ſyſtem, when all was diſcord, blood, and rapine. In general, wherever avarice and diſorderly paſſions bear rule, I boldly pronounce, that men are ill qualified for ſociety.

Providence extracts order out of confuſion. Men, in a ſociety ſo uncomfortable, are taught by dire experience, that they muſt either renounce ſociety, or qualify themſelves for it—the choice is eaſy, but how difficult the practice! After infinite ſtruggles, appetite for ſociety prevailed; and time, that uni⯑verſal conqueror, perfected men in the art of ſub⯑duing their paſſions, or of diſſembling them. Find⯑ing now no enjoyment but in ſociety, we are ſoli⯑citous about the good-will of others; and we adhere to juſtice and good manners: diſorderly paſſions are ſuppreſſed, kindly affections encouraged, and men become leſs unfit for ſociety than formerly.

But is the progreſs of men toward the perfection of ſociety to ſtop here? are luſt of power and of property to continue for ever leading principles? are envy, revenge, treachery, deceit, never to have an end? ‘"How devoutly to be wiſhed, (it will be ſaid), that all men were upright and honeſt; and that all of the ſame nation were united like a ſin⯑gle family in concord and mutual affection! Here indeed would be perpetual ſunſhine, a gold⯑en age, a ſtate approaching to that of good men made perfect in heavenly manſions."’ Beware of indulging ſuch pleaſing dreams. The ſyſtem of Providence differs widely from our wiſhes; and ſhall ignorant man venture to arraign Providence? Are we qualified to judge of the whole, when but ſo ſmall a part is viſible? It is our duty to believe, [169] that were the whole viſible, it would appear beau⯑tiful. We are not however reduced to an act of pure faith: a glimmering light, breaking in, makes it at leaſt doubtful, whether upon the whole it be not really better for us to be as we are. Let us follow that glimmering light to ſee where it will lead us.

I begin with obſerving, that tho' in our preſent condition we ſuffer much diſtreſs from ſelfiſh and diſſocial paſſions, yet cuſtom renders our diſtreſſes familiar, and hardens us not only to bear but to brave them. Strict adherence to the rules of juſtice would indeed ſecure our perſons and our property: robbery and murder would vaniſh, and locks and guns be heard of no more. So far excellent, were no new evils to come in their place: but the void muſt be filled, and mental diſtreſſes would break in of various kinds, ſuch particularly as proceed from refined delicacy and nice ſenſibility of honour, little regarded while we are expoſed to dangers more alarming. And whether the change would be much to our advantage, appears doubtful: pain as well as pleaſure is meaſured by compariſon; and the ſlighteſt pain, ſuch for example, as ariſes from a tranſgreſſion of civility or good-breeding, will over⯑whelm a perſon who has never ſelt any more ſevere. At any rate, natural evils will remain; and that extreme delicacy and ſoftneſs of temper which are produced by eternal peace and concord, would ren⯑der ſuch evils inſupportable: the ſlight inconve⯑niencies of a rough road, bad weather, or homely fare, would become ſerious evils, and afflict the traveller paſt enduring. The French, among whom ſociety has obtained a more refined poliſh than in any other nation, have become ſo ſoft and delicate as to loſe all [...]ortitude in diſtreſs. They cannot bear even a repreſentation of ſevere affliction in a tra⯑g [...]dy: an Engliſh audience would fall aſleep at the [170] ſlight diſtreſſes that make a deep impreſſion in the French theatre.

But now ſuppoſing, that a ſcrupulous adherence to the rules of morality would be a real improve⯑ment in ſociety; yet to me it appears evident, that men as individuals would ſuffer more by that im⯑provement, than they would gain as members of ſociety. In order to preſerve the rules of juſtice un⯑tainted, and to maintain perfect concord and affec⯑tion among men, all diſſocial and ſelfiſh paſſions muſt neceſſarily be extirpated, or brought under abſolute ſubjection. Attend to the conſequences: they deſerve our moſt ſober attention. Agitation is requiſite to the mind as well as to the body: a man engaged in a briſk purſuit, whether of buſineſs or of pleaſure, is in his element, and in high ſpirits; but when no object is in view to be attained or to be avoided, his ſpirits flag, and he ſinks into languor and deſpondence. To prevent a condition ſo bane⯑ful to man, he is provided with many paſſions, which impel him to action without intermiſſion, and envigorate both mind and body. But, upon the preſent ſuppoſition, ſcarce any motive to action would remain; and man, reduced to a lethargic ſtate, would rival no being above an oyſter or a ſenſitive plant.

Nor ought it to be overlooked, that an uniform life of peace, tranquillity, and ſecurity, would not be long reliſhed. Conſtant repetition of the ſame pleaſures would render even a golden age taſteleſs, like an Italian ſky during a long ſummer. Nature has for wiſe purpoſes impreſſed upon us a taſte for variety^q; and without it, life would be altoge⯑ther inſipid. Paragua, when governed by the Jeſuits, affords a fine illuſtration. It was divided into pariſhes, in each of which a Jeſuit preſided as [171] king, prieſt, and prophet. The natives were not ſuffered to have any property, but laboured inceſ⯑ſantly for their daily bread, which was delivered to them out of a public magazine. The men were employed in agriculture, the women in ſpinning; and certain preciſe hours were allotted for labour, for food, for prayer, and for ſleep^*. They ſunk into ſuch a liſtleſs ſtate of mind, as to have no re⯑gret at dying when attacked by diſeaſe or by old age. Such was their indifference about what might befall them, that tho' they adored the Jeſuits, yet they made no oppoſition, when the fathers were, ann. 1767, attacked by the Spaniards, and their famous republic demoliſhed. The monkiſh life is contradictory to the nature of man: the languor of that ſtate is what, in all probability, tempts many a monk and nun, to find occupation even at the ex⯑pence of virtue. The lives of the Malteſe knights is far from being agreeable, now that their knight⯑errantry againſt the Turks has ſubſided. While they reſide in the iſland, a ſtrict uniformity in their manner of living is horridly irkſome. Abſence is their only relief, when they can obtain permiſſion. There will not at laſt remain a knight in the iſland, except ſuch as by office are tied to attendance.

I proceed to another conſideration. Familiarity with danger is neceſſary to eradicate our natural timidity; and ſo deeply rooted is that principle, that familiarity with danger of one ſort does not [172] harden us with reſpect to any other ſort. A ſoldier, bold as a lion in the field, is faint-hearted at ſea, like a child; and a ſeaman, who braves the winds and waves, trembles when mounted on a horſe of ſpirit. Courage does not ſuperabound at preſent, even in the midſt of dangers and unforeſeen acci⯑dents: ſedentary manufacturers, who ſeldom are in the way of harm, are remarkably puſillanimous. What would men be in the ſuppoſed condition of univerſal peace, concord, and ſecurity? they would rival a hare or a mouſe in timidity. Farewell, upon that ſuppoſition, to courage, magnanimity, heroiſm, and to every paſſion that ennobles human nature! There may perhaps be men, who, hug⯑ging themſelves in being ſecure againſt harm, would not be altogether averſe to ſuch degeneracy. But if ſuch men there be, I pray them only to re⯑flect, that in the progreſs from infancy to maturity, all nations do not ripen equally. One nation may have arrived at the ſuppoſed perfection of ſociety, before another has advanced much beyond the ſa⯑vage ſtate. What ſecurity hath the former againſt the latter? Preciſely the ſame that timid ſheep have againſt hungry wolves.

I ſhall finiſh with one other effect of the ſuppoſed perfection of ſociety, more degrading, if poſſible, than any mentioned. Exerciſe, as obſerved above, is not leſs eſſential to the mind than to the body. The reaſoning faculty, for example, without con⯑ſtant and varied exerciſe, will remain weak and un⯑diſtinguiſhing to the end of life. By what means doth a man acquire prudence and foreſight, but by practice? It is preciſely here as in the body: de⯑prive a child of motion, and it will never acquire any ſtrength of limbs. The many difficulties that men encounter, and their various objects of purſuit, rouſe the underſtanding, and ſet the reaſoning fa⯑culty [173] at work for means to accompliſh deſire. The mind, by continual exerciſe, ripens to its perfec⯑tion; and, by the ſame means, is preſerved in vigour. It would have no ſuch exerciſe in the ſup⯑poſed perfection of ſociety; where there would be little to be deſired, and leſs to be dreaded: our mental faculties would for ever lie dormant; and we ſhould remain for ever ignorant that we have ſuch faculties. The people of Paragua are de⯑ſcribed as mere children in underſtanding. What wonder, conſidering their condition under Jeſuit government, without ambition, without property, without fear of want, and without deſires? The wants of thoſe who inhabit the torrid zone are eaſily ſupplied: they need no cloathing, ſcarce any habitation; and fruits, which ripen there to per⯑fection, give them food without labouring for it. Need we any other cauſe for their inferiority of un⯑derſtanding, compared with the inhabitants of other climates, where the mind, as well as body, are conſtantly at work for procuring neceſſaries^*?

[174] That curious writer Mandevil, who is always entertaining, if he does not always inſtruct, exults in maintaining a propoſition ſeemingly paradoxical, That private vices are public benefits. He proves, indeed, moſt triumphantly, that theft produced locks and bars, and that war produced ſwords and guns. But what would have been his triumph, had he diſcovered, that ſelfiſh and diſſocial vices promote the moſt elevated virtues, and that if ſuch vices were eradicated, man would be a groveling and contemptible being?

How raſhly do men judge of the conduct of Pro⯑vidence? So flattering to the imagination is a golden age, a life of perpetual ſun-ſhine, as to have been a favourite topic among poets, ancient and modern. Impreſſed with the felicity of ſuch a ſtate, it is not [175] eaſy to be ſatisfied with our condition in this life. Such a jumble of good and ill, malice mixed with benevolence, friendſhip alloy'd with fraud, peace with alarms of war, and frequent bloody wars,—can we avoid concluding, that in this unhappy world chance prevails more than wiſdom? What better cauſe can freethinkers wiſh for declaiming againſt Providence, while men, better diſpoſed, ſigh inwardly, and muſt be ſilent^*? But behold the [176] blindneſs of men with reſpect to the diſpenſations of Providence! A golden age would to man be more [177] poiſonous than Pandora's box; a gift, ſweet in the mouth, but bitter, bitter, in the ſtomach. Let us then forbear repining; for the ſubject before us muſt afford conviction, if any thing can, that our beſt courſe is to ſubmit humbly to whatever befals, and to reſt ſatisfied, that the world is governed by wiſdom, not by chance. What can be expected of barbarians, but utter ignorance of Providence, and of divine government? But as men ripen in the knowledge of cauſes and effects, the benevolence as [178] well as wiſdom of a ſuperintending Being become more and more apparent. How pleaſant is that obſervation! Beautiful final cauſes without number have been diſcovered in the material as well as moral world, with reſpect to many particulars that once appeared dark and gloomy. Many continue to have that appearance: but with reſpect to theſe, is it too bold to maintain, that an argument from ignorance, a ſlender argument at any rate, is alto⯑gether inſufficient in judging of divine government? How ſalutary is it for man, and how comfortable, to reſt on the faith, that whatever is, is the beſt!

SKETCH II.
General View of GOVERNMENT.

THE progreſs of government, accurately de⯑lineated, would produce a great volume: in this work there is room but for a few hints. What are the means that fit men for ſociety, is explained above; but writers are far from being unanimous about the means that fit them for government. All agree, that ſubmiſſion to our governors is a duty: but they appear to be at a loſs upon what foundation to reſt that duty; as if it were not evident, that by our nature we are fitted for government as well as for ſociety^a. If juſtice or veracity be eſſential to ſociety, ſubmiſſion to government is no leſs ſo; and each of theſe equally is declared by the moral ſenſe to be our duty. But to qualify man for go⯑vernment, the duty of ſubmiſſion alone is not ſuf⯑ficient: diverſity of temper and of talents are alſo neceſſary; and accordingly it is ſo ordered by Pro⯑vidence, that there are never wanting in any ſociety men who are qualified to lead, as well as men who are diſpoſed to follow. Where a number of people convene for any purpoſe, ſome will naturally aſ⯑ſume authority without the formality of election, and the reſt will as naturally ſubmit. A regular government, founded on laws, was probably not [180] thought of, till people had frequently ſuffered by vicious governors^*.

During the infancy of national ſocieties, govern⯑ment is extremely ſimple; and no leſs mild than ſimple. No individual is by nature intitled to ex⯑erciſe magiſterial authority over his fellows; for no individual is born with any mark of pre-eminence to vouch that he has ſuch a privilege. But nature teaches reſpect for men of age and experience; who accordingly take the lead in deliberating and ad⯑viſing, leaving execution to the young and vigo⯑rous^†. War indeed cannot be carried on without a commander; but originally his authority was li⯑mited to actual war; and he returned home a pri⯑vate [181] perſon, even when crowned with victory. The wants of men were originally ſo few, and ſo eaſily ſatisfied, as feldom to occaſion a controverſy among members of the ſame tribe. And men, finding vent for their diſſocial paſſions againſt other tribes, were fond to live peaceably at home. In⯑troduction of money made an amazing change. Wealth beſtow'd by fortune, or procured by rapine, made an impreſſion on the vulgar: different ranks were recognized: the rich became imperious, and the poor mutinous. Selfiſhneſs, prevailing over ſocial affection, ſtirred up every man againſt his neighbour; and men, overlooking their natural enemies, gave vent to diſſocial paſſions within their own tribe. It became neceſſary to ſtrengthen the hands of the ſovereign, for repreſſing paſſions in⯑flamed by opulence, which tend to a diſſolution of ſociety. This ſlight view fairly accounts for the gradual progreſs of government from the milde [...] ⯑form to the moſt deſpotic. The ſecond part of the progreſs is more pleaſing. Men, long enured to the authority of government, acquire a habit of re⯑preſſing their turbulent paſſions; and becoming by degrees regular and orderly, they are eaſily reſtrain⯑ed from doing wrong.

During the infancy of a ſociety puniſhments muſt be mild; becauſe government has no ſufficient authority over the minds of men to enforce what are ſevere. But government in time acquires au⯑thority; and when its authority is firmly rooted in the minds of the people, puniſhments more rigo⯑rous can be made effectual; and ſuch puniſhments are neceſſary among a people not yet well diſciplin⯑ed. When men at laſt become regular and orderly under a ſteady adminiſtration, puniſhments become leſs and leſs neceſſary, and the mildeſt are ſuffi⯑cient,^b. [182] The Chineſe government is extremely mild, and its puniſhments are in the ſame tone. A capital puniſhment is never inflicted, till the ſen⯑tence be examined by a ſovereign court, and ap⯑proved by the Emperor. Thus government, after paſſing through all the intermediate degrees from extreme mildneſs to extreme ſeverity, returns at laſt to its original temper of mildneſs and huma⯑nity^*.

SKETCH III.
Different FORMS OF GOVERNMENT compared.

OF all governments, democracy is the moſt tur⯑bulent: deſpotiſm, which benumbs the men⯑tal faculties, and relaxes every ſpring of action, is in the oppoſite extreme. Mixed governments, whether monarchical or republican, ſtand in the middle: they promote activity, but ſeldom any dangerous exceſs.

Pure democracy, like that of Athens, Argos, and Carthage, is the very worſt form of government, if we make not deſpotiſm an exception. The people, in whom reſides the ſovereign power, are inſolent in proſperity, timid in adverſity, cruel in anger, blind and prodigal in affection, and incapable of embrac⯑ing ſteadily a prudent meaſure. Thucydides re⯑lates^a, that Agis with a gallant army of Spartans ſurrounded the army of Agos; and, though ſecure of victory, ſuffered them to retreat, upon ſolemn aſſurances from Thraſyllus, the Argian general, of terminating all differences in an amicable treaty; Agis, perhaps juſtly, was bitterly cenſured for ſuf⯑fering victory to ſlip out of his hands: but the Ar⯑gians, dreaming of victory when the danger was over, brought their general to trial, confiſcated his effects, and would have ſtoned him to death, had he not taken refuge in a temple. Two Athenian generals, after one naval victory, being intent on a ſecond, deputed Theramenes to perform the laſt duty to their dead. A violent ſtorm prevented [184] Theramenes from executing the truſt repoſed in him; but it did not prevent the people of Athens from putting their two generals to death, as if they had neglected their duty. The fate of Socrates is a ſad inſtance of the changeable, as well as violent, diſpoſition of a democratical ſtate. He was con⯑demned to death, for attempting innovations in the eſtabliſhed religion: the ſentence was groſsly un⯑juſt; for he attempted no innovation; but only, among his friends, expreſſed purer notions of the Deity than were common in Greece at that time. But his funeral obſequies were ſcarce ended, when bitter remorſe ſeized the people. His accuſers were put to death without trial, every perſon baniſhed who had contributed to the ſentence pronounced againſt him, and his ſtatue was erected in the moſt public part of the city. The great Scipio, in his camp near Utica, was ſurrounded with three Car⯑thaginian armies, which waited only for day-light to fall upon him. He prevented the impending blow, by ſurpriſing them in the dead of night; which gave him a complete victory. This misfor⯑tune, for it could ſcarce be called bad conduct, provoked the democracy of Carthage, to pronounce ſentence of death againſt Aſdrubal their general. Great trading towns cannot flouriſh, if they be not faithful to their engagements, and honeſt in their dealings: Whence then the Fides Punica? A de⯑mocracy is in its nature raſh, violent, and fluctuat⯑ing; and the Carthaginians merited the reproach, not as individuals, but as a democratical ſtate.

A commonwealth, governed by the beſt citizens, is very different from a democracy, where the mob rules. At the ſame time, the ſolid foundation of ſuch a commonwealth is, equality among the citi⯑zens. Inequality of riches cannot be prevented in a commercial ſtate; but inequality of privileges may be prevented, by excluding no citizen from the [185] opportunity of commanding as well as of obeying. The invidious diſtinction of Patrician and Plebeian was a groſs malady in the Roman republic, a per⯑petual ſource of diſſenſion between two bodies of men, equally well born, equally rich, and equally fit for war. This ill-poiſed government would have put an end to the republic, had not the Plebeians prevailed, who were the more numerous. That reformation produced to Rome plenty of able men, qualified to govern whether in peace or in war.

A commonwealth is the beſt form of government for a ſmall ſtate: there is little room for inequality of rank or of property: and the people can act in a body. Monarchy is preferable for a large ſtate, where the people, widely ſpread, cannot be eaſily collected into a body. Attica was a kingdom, while its twelve cantons were remote from each other, and but ſlenderly connected. Theſeus, by collect⯑ing the people of figure into the city of Athens, and by a general aſſembly of all the cantons held there, fitted Attica to be a commonwealth.

When a nation becomes great and populous, it is ill fitted for being a commonwealth. Ambition is apt to trample upon juſtice; ſelfiſhneſs upon pa⯑triotiſm; and the public is ſacrificed to private views. To prevent corruption from turning incurable, the only remedy is a ſtrict rotation in office, which ought never to be diſpenſed with on any pretext^*. By ſuch rotation, every citizen in his turn governs and is governed: the higheſt office is limited as to time, and the greateſt men in the ſtate muſt ſubmit to the ſacred law of obeying as well as of command⯑ing. [186] A man long accuſtomed to power is not happy in a private ſtation: that corrupting habit is prevented by an alternate ſucceſſion of public and private life; which is more agreeable by variety, and contributes no leſs to virtue than to happineſs. It was that form of government in ancient Rome, which produced citizens without number, illuſtri⯑ous for virtue and talents. Reflect upon Cincinna⯑tus, eminent among heroes for diſintereſted love to his country. Had he been a Briton, a ſeat in par⯑liament would have gratified his ambition, as afford⯑ing the beſt opportunity of ſerving his country. In parliament he joins the party that appears the moſt zealous for the public. Being deceived in his friends, patriots in name only, not in reality, he goes over to the court; and, after fighting the bat⯑tles of the miniſtry for years, he is compelled by a ſhattered fortune to accept a poſt or a penſion, Fortunate Cincinnatus! born at a time and in a country where virtue was the paſſport to power and glory. Cincinnatus, after ſerving with honour and reputation as chief magiſtrate, chearfully retired to a private ſtation, in obedience to the laws of his country: nor was that change a hardſhip on a man who was not corrupted by a long habit of power.

Political writers define a free ſtate to be, where the people are governed by laws of their own mak⯑ing. This definition is lame; for laws made by the people are not always juſt. There were many unjuſt laws enacted in Athens during the democrati⯑cal government; and in Britain inſtances are not wanting of laws, not only unjuſt, but oppreſſive. The true definition of a free ſtate is, where the legiſlature adheres ſtrictly to the laws of nature; and calculates everyone of its regulations for improv⯑ing ſociety, and for promoting induſtry and honeſty among the people. If that definition be juſt, deſ⯑potiſm [187] is the worſt ſpecies of government; being contrived to ſupport arbitrary will in the ſovereign, without regarding the laws of nature, or the good of ſociety. The lawleſs cruelty of a King of Perſia is painted to the life by a ſingle expreſſion of a Per⯑ſian grandee, ‘"That every time he left the King's apartment, he was inclined to feel with his hand whether his head was on his ſhoulders."’ In the Ruſſian empire, men approach the throne with ter⯑ror: the ſlighteſt political intrigue is a ſufficient foundation for baniſhing the greateſt nobleman to Siberia, and for confiſcating his eſtate. The laws of that empire ſmell no leſs rank of ſlavery than of oppreſſion. No perſon dares game with money that bears the impreſſion of the preſent ſovereign: a man going along the ſtreet that fronts the Emperor's apartment, muſt pull off his hat; and it is a hein⯑ous treſpaſs to write a letter with the Emperor's name in ſmall characters. Deſpotiſm is every where the ſame: it was high treaſon to ſell a ſtatue of a Roman Emperor; and it was doubted, whether it was not high treaſon to hit an Emperor's ſtatue with a ſtone thrown at random^b. When Eliſa⯑beth Empreſs of Ruſſia was on death-bed, no perſon durſt enquire about her; and even after her death, it was not at firſt ſafe to ſpeak of it. The deep ſilence of the Ruſſians upon matters of government ariſes from the encouragement given to accuſations of treaſon. The by-ſtanders muſt lay hold of the perſon accuſed: a father arreſts his ſon, a ſon his father, and nature ſuffers in ſilence. The accuſed with the accuſer are hurried to priſon, there to re⯑main till they be tried in the ſecret court of chan⯑cery. That court, compoſed of a few miniſters named by the Emperor, have the lives and fortunes of all at their mercy. The nobility, ſlaves to the [188] crown, are prone to retaliate upon their inferiors. They impoſe taxes at pleaſure upon their vaſſals, and frequently ſeize all at ſhort hand^*.

Servility and depreſſion of mind in the ſubjects of a deſpotic government cannot be better marked than in the funeral rites of a Roman Emperor, de⯑ſcribed by Herodian^c. The body being burnt privately, a waxen image repreſenting the Em⯑peror is laid in a bed of ſtate. On the one ſide ſit the ſenators ſeveral hours daily, clothed in black; and on the other, the moſt reſpectable matrons, clothed in white. The ceremony laſts ſeven days, during which the phyſicians from time to time approach the bed, and declare the Emperor to be worſe and worſe. When the day comes of declaring him dead, the moſt dignified of the nobi⯑lity carry the bed upon their ſhoulders, and place it in the old forum, where the Roman magiſtrates formerly laid down their office. Then begin dole⯑ful ditties, ſung to his memory by boys and women. Theſe being ended, the bed is carried to the Cam⯑pus [189] Martius, and there burnt upon a high ſtage with great ſolemnity. When the flames aſcend, an eagle is let looſe, which is ſuppoſed to carry the ſoul of the Emperor to heaven. Is that farce leſs ridiculous than a puppet-ſhew? Is it not much more ridiculous? Dull muſt have been the ſpectator who could behold the ſolemnity without ſmiling at leaſt, if not laughing outright; but the Romans were cruſhed by deſpotiſm, and nothing could provoke them to laugh. That ridiculous farce continued to be acted till the time of Conſtantine: how much later I know not.

The fineſt countries have been depopulated by deſpotiſm; witneſs Greece, Egypt, and the Leſſer Aſia. The river Menam, in the kingdom of Siam, overflows annually like the Nile, depoſiting a quan⯑tity of ſlime, which proves a rich manure. The river ſeems to riſe gradually as the rice grows; and retires to its channel when the rice, approaching to maturity, needs no longer to be watered. Nature beſide has beſtowed on that rich country variety of delicious fruits, requiring ſcarce any culture. In ſuch a paradiſe, would one imagine that the Siamites are a miſerable people? The government is deſpo⯑tic, and the ſubjects are ſlaves: they muſt work for their monarch ſix months every year, without wages, and even without receiving any food from him. What renders them ſtill more miſerable is, that they have no protection either for their perſons or their goods: the grandees are expoſed to the rapacity of the king and his courtiers; and the lower ranks are expoſed to the rapacity of the grandees. When a man has the mis⯑fortune to poſſeſs a tree remarkable for good fruit, he is required in the name of the King, or of a courtier, to preſerve the fruit for their uſe. Every proprietor of a garden in the neighbourhood of the capital muſt pay a yearly ſum to the keeper of [190] the elephants; otherwiſe it will be laid waſte by theſe animals, whom it is high treaſon to moleſt. From the ſea-port of Mergui to the capital, one travels ten or twelve days through immenſe plains of a rich ſoil, finely watered. That country ap⯑pears to have been formerly cultivated, but is now quite depopulated, and left to tigers and elephants. Formerly, an immenſe commerce was carried on in that fertile country: hiſtorians atteſt, that in the middle of the ſixteenth century above a thou⯑ſand foreign ſhips frequented its ports annually. But the King, tempted with ſo much riches, endea⯑voured to engroſs all the commerce of his country; by which means he annihilated ſucceſſively mines, manufactures, and even agriculture. The country is depopulated, and few remain there but beggars. In the iſland Ceylon, the King is ſole proprietor of the land; and the people are ſupinely indolent: their huts are mean, without any thing like furni⯑ture: their food is fruit that grows ſpontaneouſly; and their covering is a piece of coarſe cloth, wrap⯑ped round the middle. The ſettlement of the Dutch Eaſt-India company at the Cape of Good Hope is profitable to them in their commerce with the Eaſt Indies; and it would be much more profi⯑table, if they gave proper encouragement to the tenants and poſſeſſors of their lands. But theſe poor people are ruled with a rod of iron: what the company wants is extorted from them at ſo low a price as ſcarce to afford them common neceſſaries. Avarice, like many other irregular paſſions, ob⯑ſtructs its own gratification: were induſtry duly en⯑couraged, the product of the ground would be in greater plenty, and goods be afforded voluntarily at a lower price than they are at preſent obtained by violence. The Peruvians are a ſad example of the effects of tyranny; being reduced to a ſtate of ſtupid [191] inſenſibility. No motive to action influences them; neither riches, nor luxury, nor ambition: they are even indifferent about life. The ſingle pleaſure they feel is, to get drunk, in order to forget their miſery. The provinces of Moldavia, Walachia, and Beſſarabia, ſituated between the 43d and 48th degrees of latitude, are defended on three ſides by the Nieſter, the Black Sea, and the Danube. The climate of that region, and the fertility of its ſoil, render it not inferior to any other country in Eu⯑rope. Its paſtures, in particular, are excellent, producing admirable horſes, with an incredible number of ſheep and horned cattle; and its induſ⯑trial fruits, ſuch as corn, wine, oil, honey, and wax, were formerly produced in great plenty. So populous was that region a few centuries ago, that the prince of Walachia was able, in that province alone, to raiſe an army of ſeventy thouſand men. Yet, notwithſtanding all theſe advantages, the wretched policy of the Turkiſh government has reduced theſe provinces to be almoſt a deſert. A deſpotic government ſtifles, in the birth, all the bounties of nature, and renders the fineſt ſpots of the globe equally ſterile with its barren mountains. When a patriotic king travels about to viſit his dominions, he is received with acclamations of joy. A deſpotic prince dares not hope for ſuch reception: he is locked up in his ſeraglio, ig⯑norant of what paſſes; and indolently ſuffers his people to be pillaged, without even hearing of their diſtreſſes.

At the ſame time, deſpotiſm, though calculated to elevate the Sovereign above the rules of juſtice, and to make him the only free perſon in his domi⯑nions, tends, above all other governments, to ren⯑der him inſecure. He becomes odious by oppreſſi⯑on; and every hand would be raiſed againſt him, [192] but for the reſtraint of fear. A ſituation ſo tickliſh lays him open to every bold ſpirit, prompted by revenge to ſeek his ruin, or by ambition to uſurp his throne. In that reſpect, Ruſſia and Turkey are preciſely ſimilar: conſpiracies againſt the Sove⯑reign are equally frequent, and equally ſucceſsful. The moment an uſurper ſeizes the palace, all ob⯑ſtructions vaniſh: all proſtrate themſelves before the throne, without enquiring about the poſſeſſor's title. In that manner was the preſent Empreſs of Ruſſia eſtabliſhed, notwithſtanding a very unfavou⯑rable circumſtance, that of dethroning her own huſband Peter III. No free ſpirit regrets ſuch events in a deſpotic government: the only thing to be regretted is, that they concern the monarch only; not the people, who remain abject ſlaves as formerly. The preſent Empreſs, ſenſible of her precarious ſituation, is intent to humanize her people, and to moderate the deſpotiſm. In that view, ſhe has publiſhed a code of laws fit for a limited monarchy, and expreſſing great regard to the lives, liberties, and property of her ſubjects.

But a monarchy, with all the moderation that deſpotiſm can admit, is inconſiſtent with liberty of the preſs. Political pamphlets, and even news⯑papers, are no leſs uſeful for inſtructing the King, than for ſecuring his ſubjects. In France, the mi⯑niſtry are deprived of that means of acquiring knowledge; and are reduced to the neceſſity of truſting to inſinuating men, who cunningly creep into favour, with a view to their own intereſt. After the late peace, 1763, that miniſtry formed a plan for eſtabliſhing a colony in Guiana; and no fewer than twelve thouſand perſons were landed there all at one time. But ſo groſsly ignorant were they of the preparations neceſſary for planting a colony in the torrid zone, that contagious diſeaſes, occaſi⯑oned [193] by unwholeſome food, and want of accom⯑modation, left not a ſingle perſon alive. This could not have happened in England: every article of management would have been canvaſſed, and light would have broke in from every quarter.

I have inſiſted longer upon the deplorable effects of deſpotiſm than perhaps is neceſſary; but I was fond of the opportunity to juſtify, or rather applaud the ſpirit of liberty ſo eminent in the inhabitants of Britain. I now proceed to compare different forms of government, with reſpect to various parti⯑culars; beginning with patriotiſm. Every form of government muſt be good that inſpires patriotiſm; and the beſt form to invigorate that noble paſſion is a commonwealth founded on rotation of power, where it is the ſtudy of tho [...]e in office to do good, and to merit approbation from their fellow-citizens. In the Swiſs Cantons, the ſalaries of magiſtrates and public officers are ſcarce ſufficient to defray their expences; and thoſe worthy perſons deſire no other recompence, but to be eſteemed and honour⯑ed^*. A republic ſo modelled inſpires virtues of every ſort. The people of Switzerland ſeldom [194] think of writing to confirm a bargain: a law⯑ſuit is ſcarce known among them; and many there are who have never heard of an advocate nor of an attorney. Their doors are never ſhut but in winter. It is patriotiſm that Monteſquieu has in view, when he pronounces virtue to be the leading principle in a republic. He has reaſon to term it ſo, becauſe patriotiſm is connected with every ſocial virtue; and, when it vaniſhes, men regard themſelves only, not their fellow-citizens. De⯑mocracy will never be recommended by any en⯑lightened politician, as a good form of govern⯑ment; were it for no other reaſon, but that pa⯑triotiſm cannot long ſubſiſt where the mob go⯑verns. In monarchy, the king is exalted ſo high above his ſubjects, that his miniſters are little bet⯑ter than ſervants. Such condition is not friendly to patriotiſm: it is as little friendly to ambition; for miniſters are ſtill ſervants, however much raiſed above other ſubjects. Wealth, being the only re⯑maining purſuit, promotes avarice to be their ruling paſſion. Now, if patriotiſm be not found in mini⯑ſters who have power, far leſs in men who have no power; and thus in monarchy, riches are pre⯑ferred before virtue, and every vicious offspring of avarice has free courſe.

Without piercing to the foundation, one can have no juſt notion of the various forms that go⯑vernment aſſumes in different ſtates. Monarchy is of many different kinds, and ſo is a republic. Rome and Carthage, the two great rival republics of ancient times, differed widely in their original con⯑ſtitution. Much has been ſaid of theſe republics by hiſtorians and political writers. There is one point of compariſon that will ſet in a clear light the difference of their conſtitutions, with reſpect to peace and war. Carthage, advantageouſly ſituated [195] for commerce, became a great and flouriſhing trad⯑ing town. The Carthaginians, having no object but riches, admitted none into a participation of their privileges. War was againſt their genius: but conqueſt was not, if it produced wealth; and therefore they made war in order to load their new ſubjects with taxes. Rome, on the contrary, was ill ſituated for commerce: its inhabitants were, from the beginning, employed in war, either de⯑fenſive or offenſive. Their great object accordingly was power; to which end they were always diſ⯑poſed to adopt, as citizens, the beſt of thoſe they conquered. Thus Rome became a city of warriors, Carthage of merchants. The ſubjects of the latter were always ripe for a revolt, while the ſubjects of the former were always faithful. Between two ſuch ſtates there could be no equality in war; and, had the Carthaginians been as ſkilful in politics as they were in commerce, they would have avoided, with the ſtricteſt circumſpection, every occaſion of quarrel with the Romans. Rome employed its own citizens in war: Carthage had none to em⯑ploy but mercenaries. In an offenſive war, the object of the latter was riches; that of the former was power and glory, motives much ſuperior, and more animating. In a defenſive war, the difference is infinite between mercenaries, who have no intereſt but to receive their pay, and citizens, who fight for their country, and for their wives and children. What then are we to think of Hannibal, who, reverſing the laws of nature, carried on war againſt the Romans with an army of mercenaries, was ſuc⯑ceſsful in every engagement, and brought them to the very brink of ruin? He certainly was the greateſt General the world ever ſaw. If any one is to be excepted, it is the preſent King of Pruſſia.

[196] I next compare different forms of government, with reſpect to the influence of opulence. Riches, which, joined with ambition, produce bold at⯑tempts for power, are, however, not dangerous in monarchy, where the ſovereign is ſo far ſuperior, as to humble to the duſt the moſt aſpiring of his ſubjects. But riches, joined with ambition, are dangerous in a republic: ambition will ſuggeſt the poſſibility of ſowing diſſention among the leaders; riches will make the attempt ſucceſsful; and then adieu to the republic. Wealth, accumulated by commerce in Carthage and in Athens, extinguiſh⯑ed patriotiſm, and rendered their democracy un⯑juſt, violent, and tyrannical. It had another bad effect; which was, to make them ambitious of conqueſt. The ſage Plutarch charges Themiſto⯑cles with the ruin of Athens. ‘"That great man,"’ ſays he ‘"inſpired his countrymen with deſire of naval power. That power produced extenſive commerce, and, conſequently, riches: riches again, beſide luxury, inſpired the Athenians with a high opinion of their power, and made them raſhly engage in every quarrel among their neighbours."’ Suppreſs the names, and one will believe it to be a cenſure on the conduct of Britain. Succeſsful commerce prompted the Carthaginians, againſt their natural intereſt, to make war for gain. Had they been ſucceſsful againſt the Ro⯑mans, both nations would have fallen a ſacrifice to the ambition of Hannibal: after ſubduing Italy, what Carthaginian durſt have oppoſed the glorious conqueror, returning with a victorious army, de⯑voted to his will? That event was long dreaded by Hanno, and the wiſer part of the Carthaginian ſenate; and hence their ſcanty ſupplies to Hannibal. But what is only a ſuppoſition with reſpect to Car⯑thage proved to be the fate of Rome. Inequality [197] of rank, opulence, and luxury, relaxed every fun⯑damental principle of the commonwealth, parti⯑cularly rotation of power, which ought to have been their palladium. Conqueſt at a diſtance led them unwarily, in ſome inſtances, to ſuſpend that fundamental law, of which Caeſar avail⯑ed himſelf in his Gallic war, by debauching from their duty the beſt diſciplined army of the re⯑public: and it was that army, under a leader little inferior to Hannibal, which determined the fate of Rome.

A ſtate with a ſmall territory, ſuch as Ham⯑burgh or Holland, may ſubſiſt long as a common⯑wealth, without much hazard from the opulence of individuals. But an extenſive territory in the hands of a few opulent proprietors is dangerous in a com⯑monwealth; becauſe of their influence over num⯑bers who depend on them for bread. The iſland of Britain is too large for a commonwealth. This oc⯑curred to a profound political writer^a, who does honour to his country; and to remedy the evil, he propoſes an Agrarian law. But it is vain to think, that accumulation of land can be prevent⯑ed by an Agrarian law: a truſt-deed is a ready ſcreen for covering accumulation beyond law: and dark tranſactions will be carried on without end; ſimilar to what is practiſed, moſt diſhoneſtly, by thoſe who elect and are elected members of par⯑liament. When ſuch comes to be the condition of land-property, the Agrarian law will be ripe for diſſolution.

In early times we diſcover greater variety of character than at preſent; among ſovereigns eſpe⯑cially, who are not taught to govern their paſſions. [198] Peruſing the Hiſtory of Spain in particular, one is ſtruck with an amazing variety of character in the Mooriſh Kings. In ſome of them, outrageous cru⯑elty; in others, mildneſs, and affection for their people: in ſome, unbounded ambition, ſurmount⯑ing every obſtacle of juſtice and humanity; in others, ſtrict attention to commerce, and to every moral virtue; ſome heaping up treaſure; ſome ſquandering all upon voluptuouſneſs; ſome culti⯑vating peace; ſome fond of war. During the non⯑age of ſociety, men exert their natural bias with⯑out reſerve: in the progreſs of ſociety, they are taught to moderate their turbulent paſſions: at laſt, mild and courtly behaviour, produced by education and imitation, give an air to men of figure, as if they were all copies from one original; which is peculiarly the caſe in France. The mildneſs of external behaviour muſt have a conſiderable influ⯑ence on the internal part; for nothing tends more to ſoften or to ſuppreſs a paſſion, than never to give it vent; and, for that reaſon, abſolute monarchy in France is far from being ſo dreadful as it was for⯑merly. It is at preſent far from being violent or ſanguinary; the manners of the people having the ſame influence there, that laws have in a free country. The King, delicate with reſpect to his conduct, and dreading the cenſure of the world, is guilty of few exceſſes; and the people, tame and ſubmiſſive, are eaſily kept in order. Among men of rank, to be diſcharged the court, or to be rele⯑gated to their country-ſeats, is more terrible than a capital puniſhment.

We finiſh this ſhort eſſay with a compariſon of different governments, as to the execution of laws. Laws relative to property and pecuniary intereſt are every where preſerved in vigour, becauſe the violation of them hurts many. Laws reſpecting [199] the public are kept alive in monarchical govern⯑ments; becauſe the King, to whom execution of law is intruſted, ſeldom benefits by their tranſ⯑greſſion. For a ſteady execution of ſuch laws, a democracy has nothing to rely on but patriotiſm; and when that ſubſides, ſuch laws fall aſleep. The reaſon is, that the powers, both of legiſlature and execution, center in the people; and a multi⯑tude, frequently no better than a mob, will ne⯑ver with conſtancy direct execution againſt them⯑ſelves.

SKETCH IV.
PROGRESS OF STATES from ſmall to great, and from great to ſmall.

WHEN tribes, originally ſmall, ſpread wider and wider by population, till they become neighbours, the ſlighteſt differences enflame mu⯑tual averſion, and inveſtigate hoſtilities that never end. Weak tribes unite for defence againſt the powerful, and become inſenſibly one people: other tribes are ſwallowed up by conqueſt. And thus ſtates become more and more extenſive, till they are confined by ſeas and mountains. Spain origi⯑nally contained many ſmall ſtates, which were all brought under the Roman yoke. In later times, it was again poſſeſſed by many ſtates, Chriſtian and Mahometan, continually at war, till by con⯑queſt they were united in one great kingdom. Portugal ſtill maintains its independency, a bleſ⯑ſing it owes to the weakneſs of Spain, not to advantage of ſituation. The ſmall ſtates of Italy were ſubdued by the Romans; and thoſe of Greece by Philip of Macedon, and his ſon Alexander. Scotland eſcaped narrowly the paws of Edward I. of England; and would at laſt have been conquer⯑ed by its more potent neighbour, had not conqueſt been prevented by a federal union.

But at that rate, have we not reaſon to dread the union of all nations under one univerſal mo⯑narch? There are ſeveral cauſes that for ever will [201] prevent a calamity ſo dreadful. The local ſituation of ſome countries, defended by ſtrong natural barriers, is one of theſe. Bitain is defended by the ſea; and ſo is Spain, except where divided from France by the Pyrenean mountains. Eu⯑rope in general, by many barriers of ſeas, rivers, and mountains, is fitted for ſtates of moderate extent: not ſo Aſia, which, being divided into very large portions, is prepared by nature for extenſive monarchies^*. Ruſſia is the only excep⯑tion in Europe; a weak kingdom by ſituation, though rendered formidable by the extraordinary talents of one man, and of more than one wo⯑man.

A ſecond cauſe is, the weakneſs of a great ſtate. The ſtrength of a ſtate doth not increaſe with its bulk, more than that of a man. An overgrown empire, far from being formidable to its neigh⯑bours, falls to pieces by its weight and unwieldi⯑neſs. Its frontiers are not eaſily guarded: witneſs France, which is much weakened by that cir⯑cumſtance, [202] though its greater part is bounded by the ſea. Patriotiſm vaniſhes in a great monarchy: the provinces have no mutual connection; and the diſtant provinces, which muſt be governed by ba⯑ſhaws, are always ripe for a revolt. To ſecure Nicomedia, which had frequently ſuffered by fire, Pliny ſuggeſted to the Emperor Trajan, a fire⯑company of one hundred and fifty men. So infirm at that period was the Roman empire, that Trajan durſt not put the project in execution, fearing diſ⯑turbances even from that ſmall body.

The chief cauſe is the luxury and effeminacy of a great monarchy, which leave no appetite for war, either in the ſovereign, or in his ſubjects. Great inequality of rank in an extenſive kingdom, occaſioned by a conſtant flow of riches in the ca⯑pital, introduces ſhow, expenſive living, luxury, and ſenſuality. Riches, by affording gratification to every ſenſual appetite, become an idol, to which all men bow the knee; and when riches are wor⯑ſhipped as a paſſport to power, as well as to plea⯑ſure, they corrupt the heart, eradicate every virtue, and foſter every vice. In ſuch diſſolution of man⯑ners, contradictions are reconciled; avarice and meanneſs unite with vanity; diſſimulation and cunning, with ſplendor. Where ſubjects are ſo corrupted, what will the prince be, who is not taught to moderate his paſſions, who meaſures juſ⯑tice by appetite, and who is debilitated by corpo⯑real pleaſures? Such a prince never thinks of heading his own troops, nor of extending his do⯑minions. Moſtazen, the laſt Califf of Bagdat, is a conſpicuous inſtance of the degeneracy deſcribed. His kingdom being invaded by the Tartars in the year 1258, he ſhut himſelf up in his ſeraglio with his debauched companions, as in profound peace; and, ſtupified with ſloth and voluptuouſneſs, was [203] the only perſon who appeared careleſs about the fate of his empire. A King of Perſia, being in⯑formed that the Turks had made themſelves ma⯑ſters of his beſt provinces, anſwered, that he was indifferent about their ſucceſs, provided they would not diſturb him in his city of Iſpahan. Hoatſang, the laſt Chineſe Emperor of the Chineſe race, hid himſelf in his palace, while the Tartars were wreſting from him his northern provinces, and Liſtching, a rebel mandarine, was wreſting from him the remainder. The Empreſs ſtrangled herſelf in her apartment; and the Emperor, making a laſt effort, followed her example. The ninth Chineſe Emperor of the blood of Genhizcan, addicted to women and prieſts, was deſpiſed by his people. A perſon without a name, who had been a ſervant in a convent of Bonzes, putting himſelf at the head of ſome robbers, dethroned the monarch, and extin⯑guiſhed the royal family.

The Tonquineſe, after a long ſubjection to the Emperor of China, regained their independence, and were governed by kings of their own nation. Theſe princes having, by long peace, become in⯑dolent, luxurious, and effeminate, abandoned the government of the kingdom to their miniſters. The governor of Cochin-china, being at a great diſtance from the capital, revolted firſt, and that country became a ſeparate kingdom. The gover⯑nor of Tonquin, within which province the King reſided, uſurped the ſovereignty: but, reſpecting the royal family, he only locked up the King in his palace; leaving to the King's deſcendents the name of BOVA, or King, with ſome ſhadow of royalty. The Uſurper and his ſucceſſors content themſelves with the title of CHOVA, or Genera⯑liſſimo; which ſatisfies the people, who pierce no deeper than what eye-ſight diſcovers. A revolution [204] of the ſame kind happened in Japan. Similar cauſes produce ſimilar effects. The luxurious and indolent ſucceſſors of Charlemagne in the kingdom of France, truſting their power and authority with the mairs of their palace, were never ſeen in pub⯑lic, and were ſeldom heard of. The great power of theſe officers inflamed them with an appetite for more. Pepin and his ſucceſſors were for a long time kings de facto, leaving to the rightful ſovereign nothing but the empty name. Charles Martel reigned for ſome time without even naming a king. And at laſt, Pepin the younger, anno 751, throw⯑ing off the maſk, ordered himſelf to be proclaimed King of France.

Monteſquieu^a, diſcourſing of luxury in great empires, and effeminacy in the monarchs, deſcribes the danger of revolutions, from ambitious men bred to war, in the following words: ‘"En effet il étoit naturel que des Empereurs nourris dans les fa⯑tigues de la guerre, qui parvenoient à faire de⯑ſcendre du trone une famille noyée dans les deli⯑ces, conſervaſſent la vertu qu'ils avoient eprou⯑v [...]e ſi utile, et craigniſſent les voluptés qu'ils avoient vue ſi funeſtes. Mais après ces trois ou quatre premiers princes, la corruption, le luxe, Poiſivété, les delices, s'emparent des ſucceſſeurs; ils s'enferment dans le palais, leur eſprit s'affoi⯑blit, leur vie s'accourcit, la famille decline; les grands s'él vent, les eunuques s'acreditent, on ne met ſur le trone que des enfans; le palais de⯑vient ennemi de l'empire, un people oiſif qui I habite, ruine celui qui travaille; l'Empereur eſt tué ou deſtruit par un uſurpateur, qui fonde une famille, dont le troiſieme ou quatrieme ſuc⯑ceſſeus [205] va dans le meme palais ſe renfermer en⯑core^*."’

Little reaſon, then, have we to apprehend the coalition of all nations into an univerſal monarchy. We ſee, indeed, in the hiſtory of mankind, fre⯑quent inſtances of the progreſs of nations from ſmall to great; but we ſee alſo inſtances, no leſs frequent, of extenſive monarchies being ſplit into many ſmall ſtates. Such is the courſe of human affairs: ſtates are ſeldom ſtationary; but, like the ſun, are either advancing to their meridian, or fall⯑ing down gradually, till they ſink into obſcurity. An empire, ſubjected to effeminate princes, and devoid of patriotiſm, cannot long ſubſiſt entire. The fate of all, with very few exceptions, has been uniformly the ſame. The governors of pro⯑vinces, loſing all regard for a voluptuous and effe⯑minate monarch, take courage, ſet up for them⯑ſelves, and aſſume regal authority, each in his own [206] province. The puiſſant Aſſyrian monarchy, one of the earlieſt we read of in hiſtory, after having been long a terror to its neighbours, was diſmem⯑bered by the governors of Media and of Babylon, who detached theſe extenſive provinces from the monarchy. Mahomet and his immediate ſucceſſors erected a great empire, of which Bagdat became the capital. The latter Califfs of that race, poi⯑ſoned with ſenſual pleaſure, loſt all vigour of mind, and ſunk down into ſloth and effeminacy. The governors of the diſtant provinces were the firſt who ventured to declare themſelves indepen⯑dent. Their ſucceſs invited other governors, who ſtripped the Califf of his remaining provinces, leaving him nothing but the city of Bagdat; and of that he was deprived by the Tartars, who put an end to that once illuſtrious monarchy. The ſame would have been the fate of the Perſian em⯑pire, had it not been ſubdued by Alexander of Ma⯑cedon. But, after his death, it ſubmitted to the ordinary fate: his generals aſſumed regal power, each of them in the province he governed. Had not the Roman empire been diſmembered by the Barbarians, it would have been diſmembered by the governors of its provinces. The weakneſs of Charlemagne's ſucceſſors hatched in France and in Germany an endleſs number of petty ſove⯑reigns. About the time that a paſſage to the Eaſt-Indies by the Cape of Good Hope was diſ⯑covered, the great peninſula beyond the Ganges was comprehended under the powerful empire of Biſnagar. Its firſt monarchs had eſtabliſhed them⯑ſelves by valour and military knowledge. In war, they headed their troops: in peace, they directed their miniſters, viſited their dominions, and were punctual in rendering juſtice to high and low. The people carried on an extenſive and lucrative com⯑merce, [207] which brought a revenue to the Emperor, that enabled him to maintain a ſtanding army of one hundred thouſand foot, thirty thouſand horſe, and ſeven hundred elephants. But proſperity and opulence ruined all. The Emperors, poiſoned with pride and voluptuouſneſs, were now contented with ſwelling titles, inſtead of ſolid fame. King of kings, and Huſband of a thouſand wives, were at the head of a long catalogue of ſuch pom⯑pous, but empty epithets. Corrupted by flattery, they affected divine honours, and appeared rarely in public; leaving the care of their dominions to their miniſters, and to the governors of their pro⯑vinces. At the beginning of the ſixteenth century, neighbouring princes encroached on all ſides. In the year 1565, Biſnagar, the capital, was taken and ſacked by four Mooriſh kings. The governors of the provinces declared themſelves independent; and out of that great empire ſprung the kingdoms of Golconda, Viſapour, and ſeveral others. The empire of Hindoſtan, once widely extended, is now reduced to a very ſmall kingdom, under a prince, who no longer is intitled to be deſigned the Great Mogul; the governors of his provinces having, as uſual, declared themſelves independent.

Our North-American colonies are in a proſpe⯑rous condition, increaſing rapidly in population and in opulence. The coloniſts have the ſpirit of a free people, and are enflamed with patriotiſm. Their population will equal that of Britain and Ireland in leſs than a century; and they will then be a match for the mother-country, if they chuſe to be inde⯑pendent: every advantage will be on their ſide, as the attack muſt be by ſea, from a very great diſ⯑tance. Being thus delivered from a foreign yoke, their firſt care will be, the choice of a proper go⯑vernment; and it is not difficult to foreſee what go⯑vernment [208] will be choſen. A people, animated with the new bleſſings of liberty and independence, will not incline to a kingly government. The Swiſs can⯑tons joined in a federal union, for protection againſt the potent houſe of Auſtria; and the Dutch em⯑braced the like union, for protection againſt the more potent King of Spain. But our colonies will never join in ſuch a union; becauſe they have no potent neighbour, and becauſe they have an aver⯑ſion to each other. We may pronounce then, with tolerable certainty, that each colony will chuſe for itſelf a republican government. And their preſent conſtitution prepares them for it: they have a ſe⯑nate; and they have an aſſembly repreſenting the people. No change will be neceſſary, but to drop the governor, who repreſents the King of Britain. And thus a part of a great ſtate will be converted into many ſmall ſtates.

SKETCH V.
GREAT and SMALL STATES compared.

NEIGHBOURS, according to the common ſaying, muſt be ſweet friends or bitter ene⯑mies: patriotiſm is vigorous in ſmall ſtates; and the hatred to neighbouring ſtates no leſs ſo: both vaniſh in a great monarchy.

Like a maximum in mathematics, emulation has the fineſt play within certain bounds; it languiſh⯑eth where its objects are too many, or too few: and hence it is, that the moſt heroic actions are per⯑formed in a ſtate of moderate extent. Appetite for applauſe, or fame, may ſubſiſt in a great monarchy; but by that appetite, without the ſupport of emula⯑lation, heroic actions are ſeldom atchieved.

Small ſtates, however corrupted, are not liable to deſpotiſm: the people being contiguous to the ſeat of government, and accuſtomed to ſee their gover⯑nors daily, talk familiarly of their errors, and pub⯑liſh them every where. On Spain, which formeryl conſiſted of many ſmall ſtates, a profound writer^a makes the following obſervation. ‘"The petty monarch was but little elevated above his nobles: having little power, he could not command much reſpect; nor could his nobles look up to him with that reverence which is felt in approaching great monarchs."’ Another thing is equally weighty againſt deſpotiſm in a ſmall ſtate: the ar⯑my cannot eaſily be ſeparated from the people; and [210] for that reaſon, is very little dangerous. The Ro⯑man Pretorian bands were billeted in the towns near Rome; and three cohorts only were employed in guarding that city. Sejanus, perfect of theſe bands under Tiberius, lodged the three cohorts in a ſpaci⯑ous barrack within the city, in order to gain more authority over them, and to wean them from fami⯑liarity with the people. Tacitus, in the 4th book of his Annals, relates the ſtory in the following words. ‘"Vim praefecturae modicam antea, in⯑tendit, diſperſas per urbem cohortes una in caſtra conducendo; ut ſimul imperia acciperent, nu⯑meroque et robore, et viſu, inter ſe, fiducia ipſis, in caeteros metus, crearetur^*."’

What is ſaid above ſuggeſts the cauſe of a curi⯑ous fact recorded in ancient hiſtory, viz. That of many attempts to uſurp the ſovereignty of different Greek republics, very few ſucceeded; and that no uſurpation of that kind was laſting. Every circum⯑ſtance differs in an extenſive ſtate: the people, at a diſtance from the throne, and having profound veneration for the ſovereign, conſider themſelves, not as members of a body-politic, but as ſubjects merely, bound implicitly to obey: by which im⯑preſſion they are prepared beforehand for deſpotiſm. Other reaſons concur: the ſubjects of a great ſtate are dazzled with the ſplendor of their monarch; and as their union is prevented by diſtance, the monarch can ſafely employ a part of his ſubjects againſt the reſt, or a ſtanding army againſt all.

[211] A great ſtate poſſeſſes one eminent advantage, viz. ability to execute magnificent works. The hanging gardens of Babylon, the pyramids of Egypt, and its lake Meris, are illuſtrious examples. The city of Heliopolis in Syria, named Balbek by the Turks, is a pregnant inſtance of the power and opulence of the Roman empire. Even in the ruins of that city, there are remains of great magnifi⯑cence and exquiſite taſte. If the imperial palace, or the temple of the Sun, to mention no other building, were the work of any European prince exiſting at preſent, it would make a capital figure in the annals of his reign. And yet ſo little eclat did theſe works make at the time of execution, that there is not a hint of them in any hiſtorian. The beneficence of ſome great monarchs is worthy of ſtill greater praiſe. In the principal roads of Japan hot baths are erected at proper diſtances, with other conveniencies, for the uſe of travellers. The be⯑neficence of the Chineſe government to thoſe who ſuffer ſhipwreck, gives a more advantageous im⯑preſſion of that monarchy, than all that is painfully collected by Du Halde. To verify the obſervation, I joyfully lay hold of the following incident. In the year 1728, the ſhip Prince George took her departure from Calcutta in Bengal for Canton in China, with a cargo L. 60,000 value. A violent ſtorm drove her aſhore at a place named Timpau, a great way weſt from Canton. Not above half the crew could make the ſhore, worn out with fatigue and hunger, and not doubting of being maſ⯑ſacred by the natives. How amazed were they to be treated with remarkable humanity! A mandarin appeared, who not only provided for them victuals in plenty, but alſo divers to aſſiſt them in fiſhing the wreck. What follows is in the words of my author, Alexander Wedderburn of St. Germains, a gentleman of known worth and veracity, who bore [212] office in the ſhip. ‘"In a few days we recovered L. 5000 in bullion, and afterward L. 1 [...],000 more. Before we ſet forward to Canton, the mandarin our benefactor took an exact account of our money, with the names of the men, fur⯑niſhed us with an eſcort to conduct us through his diſtrict, and conſigned us dead or alive to one Suqua at Canton, a Chineſe merchant well known to the Engliſh there. In every one of our reſting-places, victuals were brought to us by the villagers in plenty, and with great cordi⯑ality. In this manner we paſſed from one diſtrict to another, without having occaſion to lay out a ſingle farthing, till we reached Canton, which we did in nine days, travelling ſometimes by land, and ſometimes by water. Our caſe had been repreſented to the court at Pekin, from whence orders came to diſtribute amongſt us a ſum of money; which was done by the Chuntuck, Hoppo, and other officers, civil and military, aſſembled in great ſtate. After a ſhort ſpeech, expreſſing regret for our calamity, with an eulo⯑gium on the humane and generous diſpoſition of their maſter; to each of us was preſented the Emperor's bounty, in a yellow bag, on which was inſcribed the nature of the gift. The firſt ſupercargo received 450 tales in ſilver, the ſecond 350, myſelf 250, the mate 75, and each com⯑mon ſeamen 15; the whole amounting to about 2000 tales, or L. 800. This is an example worthy imitation, even where Chriſtianity is profeſſed; though its tenets are often, on like occaſions, ſcandalouſly perverted."’ So far my author: and I add, that this bounty was undoubt⯑edly eſtabliſhed by law; for it has not the appear⯑ance of an occaſional or ſingular act of benevolence. If ſo, China is the only country in the world, [213] where charity to ſtrangers in diſtreſs is a branch of public police.

Another advantage of a great ſtate I mention with peculiar pleaſure, becauſe all who aſpire to be eminent in literature, are intereſted in it. A ſmall kingdom, like Denmark, like Sweden, like Portu⯑gal, cannot naturally be productive of good writers; becauſe where there are few readers, there is no ſufficient incitement to exert literary talents: a claſ⯑ſical work produced at preſent in the Celtic lan⯑guage, would be little leſs than a miracle. France is eminent above all other nations for the encou⯑ragement it affords to good writers: it is a popu⯑lous country; it is the chief ſeat of taſte, arts, and ſciences; and its language has become univerſal in Europe, being the court-language every where: what wonder then is it, that French writers carry the palm? But let not the Britiſh deſpond; for doth not a glorious proſpect lie before them? The demand for Engliſh books in America is conſidera⯑ble; and is increaſing daily. Population goes on vigorouſly: the number of Britiſh already ſettled upon the river Ohio approach to 10,000; and the delicious country from that river down to the mouth of the Miſſiſſippi, will be filled with people whoſe native tongue is Engliſh. What reaſon is there to doubt, but that ſo fine a climate and ſo rich a ſoil will be productive of readers in plenty? The pro⯑ſpect of ſo many readers, though in diſtant parts of the globe, muſt rouſe our ambition; and our am⯑bition will be happily directed, if we lay aſide all local diſtinctions, and aſpire to rival the French writers in real merit only.

But the foregoing advantages of a great ſtate, however illuſtrious, are ſadly overbalanced by ma⯑nifold diſadvantages. The firſt is, the corruption of its kings, which, with a different view, is men⯑tioned in the ſketch immediately preceding. And [214] beſide corruption, there is another diſadvantage that great monarchs are ſubjected to; which is, that being highly elevated above their ſubjects, they are acquainted with none but their miniſters. And miniſters, who, in a deſpotic government, are ſub⯑ject to no controul but that of their maſter, com⯑monly prefer their own intereſt, without regard to his honour. Solyman Emperor of the Turks, tho' accompliſhed above any of his predeceſſors, could not eſcape the artifices of his wife Roxalana, and of his Viſir Ruſtan. They poiſoned his ears with re⯑peated calumnies againſt his eldeſt ſon Muſtapha, a young prince of great hopes. They were not in hazard of detection, becauſe no perſon had acceſs to the Emperor but by their means. And the con⯑cluding ſcene was an order from the Emperor to put his ſon to death^b. If a great monarch lies thus open in his own palace to the artifices of his miniſters, his authority, we may be certain, will be very ſlight over the governors of his diſtant pro⯑vinces. Their power is precarious; and they op⯑preſs the people without intermiſſion, in order to amaſs wealth: the complaints of the people are diſ⯑regarded; for they can never reach the throne. The Spaniſh governors of the Philippine iſlands afford a deplorable inſtance of this obſervation. The heat of the climate promotes luxury: and luxury prompts avarice, which rages without controul, the diſtance of the capital removing all fear of de⯑tection. Arbitrary taxes are impoſed on the peo⯑ple, and exceſſive duties on goods imported, which are rigorouſly exacted, and converted by the go⯑vernor to his own uſe. An arbitrary eſtimate is made of what every field may produce; and the huſbandman is ſeverely puniſhed if he ſail to deliver [215] the appointed quantity, whether his land has pro⯑duced it or not. Many thouſands have abandoned their native country; and the few miſerable wretches who remain, have taken refuge among inacceſſible mountains.

The corruption of a court ſpreads through every member of the ſtate. In an extenſive kingdom, powerful above its neighbours, the ſubjects, having no occaſion to exert themſelves in defence of their country, loſe their manhood, and become cowards. At the ſame time, great inequality of rank and for⯑tune engender luxury, ſelfiſhneſs, and ſenſuality^*. The fine arts, it is true, gain ground, manufac⯑tures are perfected, and courtly manners prevail: but every manly virtue is gone; and not a ſoul to be found, who will venture his life to ſave his country. That diſeaſe is ſpreading in Britain; and the only circumſtance that guards France from equal puſillanimity, is an eſtabliſhed mode, that every gentleman muſt ſerve ſome campaigns in the army.

A third diſadvantage of an extenſive monarchy is, that it is liable to internal convulſions or revolu⯑tions, [216] occaſioned commonly either by a ſtanding army, or by the governors of diſtant provinces. With reſpect to the former, the government of a great kingdom, enervated by luxury, will always be military, and conſequently deſpotic. A nume⯑rous army will ſoon learn to contemn a puſillani⯑mous leader, and to break looſe from every tie of ſubjection: the ſovereign is often changed at the caprice of the army; but deſpotiſm continues in⯑variable. In Turky, Janiſaries dethrone the Sul⯑tan, without ſcruple; but being ſuperſtitiouſly attached to the royal family, they confine them⯑ſelves to it in electing a new Sultan. The Preto⯑rian bands were the Janiſſaries of the Roman empire, who never ſcrupled to dethrone the Em⯑peror on the ſlighteſt diſobligation. But as there was no royal family, they commonly carried the crown to market, and beſtowed it on the higheſt bidder. With reſpect to the latter, the governors of diſtant provinces, accuſtomed to act without controul, become fond of power, and put no bounds to ambition. Let them but gain the affec⯑tion of the people they govern, and boldneſs will do the reſt. The monarch is dethroned before he is prepared for defence, and the uſurper takes his place without oppoſition. Succeſs commonly at⯑tends ſuch undertakings; for the ſovereign has no ſoul, and the people have no patriotiſm. In Hin⯑doſtan, formerly, ſome diſcontented favourite or ſouba took up arms to avenge fancied, or perhaps affected wrongs: venturing not however upon in⯑dependence, he ſcreened himſelf with ſetting up ſome perſon of the royal blood, whom he proclaim⯑ed ſovereign. The voluptuouſneſs and effeminacy of the late kings of Perſia have rendered that king⯑dom a prey to every bold invader. There perhaps never exiſted a ſtate that ſo often has changed its maſter, as Perſia has done of late years.

[217] In the fourth place, a nation corrupted with luxury and ſenſuality is a ready morſel for every invader: to attempt the conqueſt, and [...]o ſucceed, are almoſt the ſame. The potent Aſſyrian monar⯑chy, having long ſubſiſted in peace without a ſingle enemy, ſunk into ſloth and effeminacy, and be⯑came an eaſy prey to the kings of Media and Ba⯑bylon. Theſe two nations, in like circumſtances of ſloth and effeminacy, were in their turn ſwal⯑low'd up by Cyrus King of Perſia. And the great empire of Perſia, running the ſame courſe, was ſubdued by Alexander of Macedon with a ſmall army of thirty five thouſand men^*.

And this leads to a fifth diſadvantage of a great empire, which is, the difficulty of guarding its frontiers. A kingdom, like an animal, becomes weak in proportion to its exceſs above a certain ſize. France and Spain would be leſs fitted for de⯑fence, were they enlarged beyond their preſent ex⯑tent: Spain in particular was a very weak kingdom, while it comprehended the Netherlands and the half of Italy. In their preſent ſize, forces are ſoon collected to guard the moſt diſtant frontiers. Months are required to aſſemble troops in an overgrown kingdom like Perſia: if an army be defeated at the frontier, it muſt diſperſe, fortified places being ſel⯑dom within reach. The victor, advancing with celerity, lays ſiege to the capital, before the pro⯑vincial troops can be formed into a regular army: the capital is taken, the empire diſſolved, and the [218] conqueror at leiſure diſputes the provinces with their governors. The Philippine iſlands made formerly a part of the extenſive empire of China; but as they were too diſtant to be protected, or well governed, it ſhow'd conſummate wiſdom in the Chineſe government to abandon them, with ſeveral other diſtant provinces.

A ſmall ſtate, on the other hand, is eaſily guard⯑ed. The Greek republics thought themſelves ſuf⯑ficiently fortified againſt the Great King, by their courage, their union, and their patriotiſm. The Spaniſh Chriſtians, beat out of the open country by the Saracens, retired to the mountains of Aſtu⯑ria, and elected Don Pelayo to be their King. That warlike prince walled none of his towns, nor did he fortify a ſingle paſs; knowing, that while his people were brave, they would be invincible; and that walls and ſtrong-holds ſerve but to abate courage. The Romans, while circumſcribed with⯑in Italy, never thought of any defence againſt an enemy but good troops. When they had acquired a vaſt empire, even the Rhine appeared a barrier too weak: the numberleſs forts and legions that covered their frontiers could not defend them from a panic upon every motion of the barbarians^*. A nation in which the reciprocal duties of ſovereign and ſubject are conſcientiouſly fulfilled, and in which the people love their country and their go⯑vernors, may be deemed invincible; provided due care be taken of the military branch. Every particular is reverſed in a great empire: individuals graſp at money, per fas aut nefas, to laviſh it upon pleaſure: the governors of diſtant provinces tyran⯑nize without control, and, during the ſhort period [219] of their power, neglect no means, however op⯑preſſive, to amaſs wealth. Thus were the Roman provinces governed; and the people, who could not figure a greater tyrant than a Roman proconſul, were ready to embrace every change. The Ro⯑mans accordingly were ſenſible, that to force their barrier, and to diſmember their empire, were in effect the ſame. In our times the nations, whoſe frontiers lie open, would make the moſt reſolute ſtand againſt an invader; witneſs the German ſtates, and the Swiſs cantons. Italy enjoys the ſtrongeſt natural barrier of any country that is not an iſland; and yet for centuries has been a prey to every invader.

Two methods have been practiſed for ſecuring the frontiers of an extenſive empire: one is to lay the frontiers waſte; the other is, to eſtabliſh feu⯑datory princes in the diſtant provinces. Sha Abbas, King of Perſia, in order to prevent the inroads of the Turks, laid waſte part of Armenia, carrying the inhabitants to Iſpahan, and treating them with great humanity. Land is not much valued by the great monarchs of Aſia: it is precious in the ſmaller kingdoms of Europe, and the frontiers are com⯑monly guarded by fortified towns. The other frontiers of Perſia are guarded by feudatory princes; and he ſame method is practiſed in China, in Hin⯑doſtan, and in the Turkiſh empire. The princes of Little Tartary, Moldavia, and Wallachia, have been long a ſecurity to the Grand Signior againſt his powerful neighbours in Europe.

SKETCH VI.
WAR and PEACE compared.

NO complaints are more frequent than againſt the weather, when it ſuits not our purpoſe: ‘"A diſmal ſeaſon! we ſhall be drowned, or we ſhall be burned up."’ And yet wiſe men think, that there might be more occaſion to complain, were the weather left to our own direction. The wea⯑ther is not the only inſtance of diſtruſting Provi⯑dence: it is a common topic to declaim againſt war; ‘"Scourge of nations, Deſtroyer of the hu⯑man race, Bane of arts and induſtry! Will the world never become wiſe! Will war never have an end!"’ Manifold indeed are the bleſſings of peace; but doth war never produce any good? A fair compariſon may poſſibly make it doubtful, whe⯑ther war, like the weather, ought not to be reſigned to the conduct of Providence: ſeldom are we in the right when we repine at its diſpenſations.

The bleſſings of peace are too well known to need illuſtration: induſtry, commerce, the fine arts, power, opulence, &c. &c. depend on peace. What has war in ſtore for balancing bleſſings ſo ſubſtan⯑tial? Let us not abandon the field without making at leaſt one effort.

Humanity, it muſt be acknowledged, gains no⯑thing from the wars of ſmall ſtates in cloſe neigh⯑bourhood: ſuch wars are brutal and bloody; be⯑cauſe they are carried on with bitter enmity againſt individuals. Thanks to Providence, that war at [221] preſent bears a leſs ſavage aſpect: we ſpare indivi⯑duals, and make war upon the nation only: barbari⯑ty and cruelty give place to magnanimity; and ſol⯑diers are converted from brutes into heroes. Such wars give exerciſe to the elevated virtues of courage, generoſity, and diſintereſtedneſs, which are always attended with conſciouſneſs of merit and of dignity^*. [222] Friendſhip is in peace cool and languid; but in a war for glory, exerts the whole fire of its enthuſi⯑aſm. [223] The long and bloody war ſuſtained by the Netherlanders againſt the tyrant of Spain, made [224] even Dutchmen heroes: they forced their way to the Indies during the hotteſt period of the war; and gained by commerce what ſupported them againſt their ferocious enemy. What have they gained ſince by peace? Their immenſe commerce has eradicated patriotiſm, and every appetite but for wealth. Had their violated rights been reſtored without a ſtruggle, they would have continued a na⯑tion of frogs and fiſhermen. The Swiſs, by con⯑tinual ſtruggles for liberty againſt the potent houſe of Auſtria, became a brave and active people, fear⯑ed and courted by neighbouring princes. Their fe⯑deral union has ſecured to them peace and tranquil⯑lity; which, notwithſtanding their mountainous ſituation, would have ſunk them into effeminacy, but for a commerce they carry on, of hiring out their men for ſoldiers. Monks are commonly pu⯑ſillanimous: their way of life, which removes them from danger, enervates their minds, and ren⯑ders them ſpiritleſs and cowardly.

[225] Induſtry, manufactures, and wealth, are the fruits of peace; but advert to what follows. Luxu⯑ry, a never-failing concomitant of wealth, is a ſlow poiſon, that debilitates the mind, and renders it in⯑capable of any manly exertion; courage, magnani⯑mity, heroiſm, come to be ranked among the miracles that are ſuppoſed never to have exiſted but in fable; and the faſhionable properties of ſenſuali⯑ty, avarice, cunning, and diſſimulation, engroſs the mind. In a word, man by conſtant proſperity and peace degenerates into a mean, impotent, and ſelfiſh animal: more deſpicable, if leſs odious, than an American ſavage, who treaſures up the ſcalps of his enemies as trophies of his proweſs. Such are the fruits of perpetual peace with reſpect to indivi⯑duals.

Nor is the ſtate itſelf leſs debilitated by itth an its members. Figure a man wallowing in riches, and immerſed in ſenſual pleaſure, but dreading the in⯑ſection of a plague raging at his gate; or figure him in continual dread of an enemy, watching every opportunity to burn and deſtroy. This man repreſents a commercial ſtate, that has long en⯑joyed peace, without diſturbance. A ſtate that is a tempting object to an invader, without means of defence, is in a woful ſituation. The re⯑public of Venice was once famous for the wiſdom of its conſtitution, and for being the Chriſtian bul⯑wark againſt the Turks; but by long peace it has become altogether effeminate. Its preſent princi⯑ples of government are conformable to its character. Every cauſe of quarrel with a neighbour is anxiouſ⯑ly avoided; and diſturbances at home prevented by watchful ſpies. Holland, ſince the days of King William, has not produced a man fit to command a regiment: and the Dutch have nothing to rely on for independence, but mutual jealouſy among their [226] neighbours. Hannibal appeared upon the ſtage too early: had the Romans, after their conqueſt of Ita⯑ly, been ſuffered to exchange their martial ſpirit for luxury and voluptuouſneſs, they would have been no match for that great general. It was equally lucky for the Romans, that they came late upon Macedon. Had Alexander finiſhed his conqueſt of Greece, and the Romans theirs of Italy, at the ſame period, they would probably have been con⯑fined each of them within their own limits. But Aſiatic luxury and effeminacy, which had got hold of the Greeks and Macedonians before the Roman invaſion, rendered them an eaſy prey to the invad⯑ders. It was the conſtant cry of Cato the Cenſor, ‘"Delenda eſt Carthago."’ Scipio Naſica was a more able politician: his opinion was, to give peace to Carthage, that the dread of that once powerful republic might preſerve in vigour the military ſpi⯑rity of his country. What happened afterwards ſets the wiſdom of that advice in a conſpicuous light. The battle of Actium, after a long train of cruel civil wars, gave peace to Rome under the Em⯑peror Auguſtus. Peace had not ſubſiſted much above thirty years, when a Roman army, under Quintilius Varus, was cut to pieces in Germany. The conſternation at Rome was great, as there was not a fortified town to prevent the Germans from pouring down upon Italy. Inſtant orders were given for levying men; but ſo effeminate had the Romans already become, that not a ſingle man would enliſt voluntarily. And Auguſtus was forced to uſe ſevere meaſures, before he could collect a very ſmall army. How different the military ſpirit of the Romans during the ſecond Punic war, when ſeveral Roman armies were cut off, greater than that of Varus. The citizens who could bear arms were reduced to 137,000; and yet in the later years of that war, the Romans made ſhift to keep [227] the field with no fewer than twenty-three legions^a. The Vandals, having expelled the Romans from Afric, enjoyed peace for a century without ſeeing the face of an enemy. Procopius^b gives the fol⯑lowing account of them. Charmed with the fertili⯑ty of the ſoil and benignity of the climate, they abandoned themſelves to luxury, ſumptuous dreſs, high living, and frequent baths. They dwelt in the theatre and circus, amuſing themſelves with dan⯑cers, pantomimes, and other gay entertainments: their villas were ſplendid, and their gardens were adorned with water-works, beautiful trees, and odo⯑riferous flowers: no regard to chaſtity, nor to any manly virtue. In that effeminate condition, they made ſcarce any reſiſtance to Beliſarius with an ar⯑my far inferior to their own in number. The Sa⯑racens of Aſia, corrupted by proſperity and opu⯑lence, were able to make no head againſt the Turks. About that time, the Spaniards, having by the ſame means become effeminate, were overpowered by the Saracens of Afric, who, remote from the cor⯑rupt manners of Aſia, retained their military ſpirit. The wealth of the kingdom of Whida in Guinea, from fertility of ſoil, great induſtry, and extenſive commerce, produced luxury and effeminacy. The king, no leſs luxurious than his people, gave him⯑ſelf up to ſenſual pleaſures, leaving government to his miniſters. In that ſituation was Whidah in the year 1727, when the king of Dahomay, an inland ſtate, requeſted acceſs to the ſea for trade, offering to purchaſe the privilege with a yearly tribute. A haughty denial furniſhed a pretext for war. The king of Dahomay invaded the territories of his ene⯑my with a diſciplined army, and pierced to the ca⯑pital without meeting any reſiſtance. The king of [228] Whidah with his women had fled to an iſland, and his people were all diſperſed. It amazed the con⯑queror, that a whole nation, without ſtriking a blow, had thus deſerted their wives, their children, their gods, their poſſeſſions, and all that was dear to them. The Japaneſe became warlike during long and bloody civil wars, which terminated, about the end of the ſixteenth century, in rendering their Emperor deſpotic. From that period no opportuni⯑ty has occurred for exerciſing their military ſpirit, except in the education of their youth: heroiſm, with contempt of death, are inculcated; and the hiſtories of their illuſtrious heroes are the only books that boys at ſchool are taught to read. But the profound tranquillity that the empire now en⯑joys in a ſtrict and regular government, will in time render that warlike people effeminate and cow⯑ardly: human nature cannot reſiſt the poiſon of perpetual peace and ſecurity. In the war between the Turks and Venetians, anno 1715, the latter put great confidence in Napoli di Romania, a city in the Morea ſtrongly fortified, and provided with every neceſſary for an obſtinate defence. They had not the leaſt doubt of being able to draw their whole force together, before the Turks could make any progreſs in the ſiege. But, to their aſtoniſh⯑ment, the taking of that city, and of every other fortified place in the Morea, was the work of but a ſingle campaign. So much had the Venetians de⯑generated by long peace, from the courage and pa⯑triotiſm of their forefathers who conquered that country from the Turks. In ſome late accounts from China, we are told, that the King of Bengala or Bracma, having invaded Yunnan, an opulent province of China, obtained a complete victory over the Emperor's army, commanded by his ſon-in-law; which ſtruck the inhabitants of that pro⯑vince with ſuch a panic, that multitudes, for fear of [229] the conqueror, hanged and drowned themſelves. To what a torpid ſtate by this time would Europe have been reduced, had the plan for a perpetual peace, projected by Henry IV. of France, been carried into execution? Conqueſt, in a retrograde motion, would have directed its progreſs from the eaſt to the weſt. Our ſituation in an iſland, among ſeveral advantages, is ſo far unlucky, that it puts us off our guard, and renders us negligent in pro⯑viding for defence: we never were invaded without being ſubdued^*.

Monteſquieu, in a warm panegyric on the Eng⯑liſh conſtitution, has overlooked one particular, in which it is ſuperior to every other monarchy; and that is, the frequent opportunities it affords of exert⯑ing mental powers and talents. What agitation a⯑mong the candidates and their electors on the ap⯑proach of a new parliament: what freedom of ſpeech and eloquence in parliament; miniſters and their meaſures laid open to the world, the nation kept alive, and inſpired with a vigour of mind that tends to heroiſm! This government, it is true, ge⯑rates factions, which ſometimes generate revoluti⯑ons: but the golden age, ſo luſciouſly deſcribed by poets, would to man be worſe than an iron age. At any rate, better to have a government liable to ſtorms, than to attempt a cure by the dead calm of deſpo⯑tiſm^†.

[230] Law-ſuits within a ſtate, like war between diffe⯑rent ſtates, accuſtom people to oppoſition, and pre⯑vent too great ſoftneſs and facility of manners. In a free government, a degree of ſtubbornneſs in the people is requiſite for reſiſting encroachments on their liberties. The fondneſs of the French for their ſovereign, and the eaſineſs and politeneſs of their manners, have corrupted a good conſtitution. The Britiſh conſtitution has been preſerved entire [231] by a people jealous of their prince, and ſtubborn againſt every encroachment of regal power.

There is another advantage of war, which ought not to be overlooked, though not capital. It ſerves to drain the country of idlers, few of whom are in⯑nocent, and many not a little miſchievous. In the years 1759 and 1760, when we were at war with France, there were but twenty-nine criminals con⯑demned at the Old Bailey. In the years 1770 and 1771, when we were at peace with all the world, the criminals condemned there amounted to one hundred and fifty-one.

But though I declare againſt perpetual peace, perpetual war is ſtill more my averſion. The con⯑dition of Europe was deplorable in the dark ages, when vaſſals aſſumed the privilege of waging war without conſent of the ſovereign. Deadly feuds, which prevailed univerſally, threatened diſſolution of all government: the human race never were in a more woful condition. But anarchy never fails ſoon or late to provide a cure againſt itſelf, which effeminacy, produced by long peace, never does. Revenge and cruelty, it is true, are the fruits of war; but ſo are likewiſe firmneſs of mind and un⯑daunted courage; which are exerted with better will in behalf of virtue than of revenge. The cru⯑ſades were what firſt gave a turn to the fierce man⯑ners of our anceſtors. A religious enterpriſe, which united numbers, formerly at variance, enlarged the ſphere of ſocial affection, and ſweetened the man⯑ners of Chriſtians to one another. Theſe cruſades filled Europe with heroes, who, at home, were ready for any new enterprize that promiſed laurels. Moved with the oppreſſive and miſerable conſe⯑quences of deadly feuds, they joined in bonds of chivalry for ſuccouring the diſtreſſed, for redreſſing wrongs, and for protecting widows and orphans. Such heroiſm enflamed every one who was fond of glory and warlike atchievements. Chivalry was [232] reliſhed by men of birth; and even kings were proud to be of the order. An inſtitution, blending together valour, religion, and gallantry, was won⯑derfully agreeable to a martial people, and tended ſtrongly to improve their manners: humanity and gentleneſs could not but prevail in a ſociety, whoſe profeſſion it was, to ſuccour every perſon in diſtreſs. And as glory and honour were the only wiſhed-for recompence, chivalry was eſteemed the ſchool of honour, of truth, and of fidelity. Thus, truth without diſguiſe, and a ſcrupulous adherence to pro⯑miſes, became the diſtinguiſhing virtues of a gen⯑tleman. It is true, that the enthuſiaſm of protect⯑ing widows and orphans, degenerated ſometimes in⯑to extravagance; witneſs knights who wandered about in queſt of adventures. But it would be un⯑fair to condemn the whole order, becauſe a few of their number were fooliſh. The true ſpirit of chi⯑valry produced undoubtedly a ſignal reformation in the manners of Europe. To what other cauſe can we ſo juſtly aſcribe the point of honour, and that humanity in war, which characterize modern man⯑ners^c? Are peace, luxury, and ſelfiſhneſs, ca⯑pable of producing ſuch effects?

That man ſhould be the only animal who makes war upon his own kind may at firſt appear ſtrange and unaccountable. Would men liſten to cool rea⯑ſon, they never would make war. Hear the cele⯑brated Rouſſeau on that ſubject. ‘"Un prince, qui pour reculer ſes frontiers, perd autant de ſes an⯑ciens ſujets qu'il en acquiert de nouveaux, s'af⯑foiblit en s'agrandiſſant; parce qu'avec un plus grand eſpace à defendre, il n'a pas plus de défenſeurs. Or on ne peut ignorer, que par la maniere dont la guerre ſe fait aujourd'hui, la moindre depopulation qu'elle produit eſt celle [233] qui ſe fait dans les armées: c'eſt bien-là la perte apparente et ſenſible; mais il s'en fait en même tems dans tout l'état une plus grave et plus irre⯑parable que celle des hommes qui meurent, par ceux qui ne naiſſent pas, par l'augmentation des impôts, par l'interruption du commerce, par la déſertion des campagnes, par l'abandon de l'agri⯑culture; ce mal qu'on n'apparcoit point d'abord, ſe fait ſentir cruellement dans la ſuite: et c'eſt alors qu'on eſt étonné d'être ſi foible, pour s'être rendu ſi puiſſant. Ce qui rend encore les con⯑quêtes moins intéreſſantes, c'eſt qu'on ſait main⯑tenant par quels moyens on peut doubler et tripler ſa puiſſance, non ſeulement ſans étendre ſon ter⯑ritoire, mais quelquefois en le reſſerrant, comme fit très ſagement l'Empereur Adrien. On ſait que ce ſont les hommes ſeuls qui ſont la force des Rois; et c'eſt une propoſition qui découle de ce que je viens de dire, que de deux états qui nour⯑riſſent le même nombre d'habitans, celui qui oc⯑cupe une moindre étendue de terre, eſt réelle⯑ment le plus puiſſant. C'eſt donc par de bonnes loix, par une ſage police, par de grandes vues économiques, qu'un ſouverain judicieux eſt sùr d'augmenter ſes forces, ſans rien donner au ha⯑zard^*."’ But war is neceſſary for man, being a [234] ſchool for improving every manly virtue; and Pro⯑vidence renders kings blind with reſpect to their true intereſt, in order that war may ſometimes take place. To rely upon Providence in the govern⯑ment of this world, is the wiſdom of man.

Upon the whole, perpetual war is bad, becauſe it converts men into beaſts of prey: perpetual peace is worſe, becauſe it converts men into beaſts of burden. To prevent ſuch woful degeneracy on both hands, war and peace alternately are the only effectual means; and theſe means are adopted by Providence.

SKETCH VII.
Riſe and Fall of PATRIOTISM.

THE members of a tribe, in their original ſtate of hunting and fiſhing, being little united but by a common language, have no notion of a patria; and ſcarce any notion of ſociety, un⯑leſs when they join in an expedition againſt an ene⯑my, or againſt wild beaſts. The ſhepherd-ſtate, where flocks and herds are poſſeſſed in common, gives a clear notion of a common intereſt; but ſtill none of a patria. The ſenſe of a patria begins to unfold itſelf, when a people leave off wandering, to ſettle upon a territory which they call their own. Agriculture connects them together; and govern⯑ment ſtill more: they become fellow-citizens; and the territory is termed the patria of every perſon born in it. It is ſo ordered by Providence, that a man's country, and his countrymen, are to him in conjunction an object of a peculiar affection, term⯑ed amor patriae, or patriotiſm; an affection that riſes high among a people intimately connected by regular government, by huſbandry, by commerce, and by a common intereſt. ‘"Cari ſunt parentes, cari liberi, propinqui, familiares; ſed omnes omnium caritates patria una complexa eſt: pro qua quis bonus dubitet mortem oppetere^*?"’

[236] Social paſſions and affections, beſide being great⯑ly more agreeable than ſelfiſh, are thoſe only which command our eſteem^d. Patriotiſm ſtands at the head of ſocial affections; and ſtands ſo high in our eſteem, that no actions but what proceed from it are termed grand or heroic. When that affection appears ſo agreeable in contemplation, how ſweet, how elevating, muſt it be in thoſe whom it inſpires! Like vigorous health, it beats conſtantly with an equal pulſe: like the veſtal fire, it never is extin⯑guiſhed. No ſource of enjoyment is more plenti⯑ful than patriotiſm, where it is the ruling paſſion: it triumphs over every ſelfiſh motive, and is a firm ſupport to every virtue. In fact, wherever it pre⯑vails, the morals of the people are found to be pure and correct.

Theſe are illuſtrious effects of patriotiſm with reſpect to private happineſs and virtue; and yet its effects with reſpect to the public are ſtill more illuſ⯑trious. A nation in no other period of its progreſs is ſo flouriſhing, as when patriotiſm is the ruling paſſion of every member: during that period, it is invincible. Atheneus remarks, that the Athenians were the only people in the world, who, though clothed in purple, put formidable armies to flight at Marathon, Salamine, and Platea. But at that pe⯑riod patriotiſm was their ruling paſſion; and ſucceſs attended them in every undertaking. Where pa⯑triotiſm rules, men do wonders, whatever garb they wear. The fall of Saguntum is a grand ſcene; a people exerting the utmoſt powers of nature, in de⯑fence of their country. The city was indeed de⯑ſtroyed; but the citizens were not ſubdued. The laſt effort of the remaining heroes was, to burn themſelves, with their wives and children, in one great funeral pile. Numantia affords a ſcene not [237] leſs grand. The citizens, ſuch as were able to bear arms, did not exceed 8000; and yet braved all the efforts of 60,000 diſciplined ſoldiers commanded by Scipio Naſica. So high was their character for in⯑trepidity, that even when but a few of them were left alive, the Romans durſt not attempt to ſtorm the town. And they ſtood firm till, ſubdued by fa⯑mine, they were no longer able to crawl. While the Portugueſe were eminent for patriotiſm, Lo⯑pez Caraico, one of their ſea-captains, in a ſingle ſhip with but forty men, ſtumbled upon the King of Achin's fleet of twenty gallies, as many junks, and a multitude of ſmall veſſels. Reſolute to periſh rather than yield, he maintained the fight for three days, till his ſhip was pierced through and through with cannon-ſhot, and not a ſingle man left un⯑wounded. And yet, after all, the King's fleet found it convenient to ſheer off.

Patriotiſm at the ſame time is the great bulwark of civil liberty; equally abhorrent of deſpotiſm on the one hand, and of licentiouſneſs on the other. While the deſpotic government of the Tudor fa⯑mily ſubſiſted, the Engliſh were too much depreſſed to have any affection for their country. But when manufactures and commerce began to flouriſh in the latter end of Elizabeth's reign, a national ſpirit broke forth, and patriotiſm made ſome figure. That change of diſpoſition was perhaps the chief cauſe, though not the moſt viſible, of the national ſtrug⯑gles for liberty, which were frequent during the government of the Stewart family, and which end⯑ed in a free government at the Revolution.

Patriotiſm is too much cramped in a very ſmall ſtate, and too much relaxed in an extenſive monar⯑chy. But that topic has already been diſcuſſed in the firſt ſketch of this book.

Patriotiſm is enflamed by a ſtruggle for liberty, by a civil war, by reſiſting a potent invader, or by [238] any incident that forcibly draws the members of a ſtate into ſtrict union for the common intereſt. The reſolute oppoſition of the ſeven provinces to Philip II. of Spain, in the cauſe of liberty, is an illuſtri⯑ous inſtance of the patriotic ſpirit riſing to a degree of enthuſiaſm. Patriotiſm, rouſed among the Cor⯑ſicans by the oppreſſion of the Genoeſe, exerted it⯑ſelf upon every proper object. Even during the heat of the war, they erected an univerſity for arts and ſciences, a national bank, and a national libra⯑ry; improvements that would not have been thought of in their torpid ſtate. Alas! they have fallen a victim to thirſt of power, not to ſuperior valour. Had Providence favoured them with ſuc⯑ceſs, their figure would have been conſiderable in peace as in war^*.

But violent commotions cannot be perpetual: one party prevails, and proſperity follows. What effect may this have on patriotiſm? I anſwer, that nothing is more animating than ſucceſs after a vio⯑lent ſtruggle: a nation in that ſtate reſembles a comet, which in paſſing near the ſun, has been [239] much heated, and continues full of motion. Pa⯑triotiſm made a capital figure among the Athenians, when they became a free people, after expelling the tyrant Piſiſtratus. Every man exerted himſelf for his country: every man endeavoured to excell thoſe who went before him: and hence a Miltiades, an Ariſtides, a Themiſtocles, names that for ever will figure in the annals of time. While the Roman republic was confined within narrow bounds, au⯑ſterity of manners, and diſintereſted love to their country, formed the national character. The ele⯑vation of the Patricians above the Plebeians, a ſource of endleſs diſcord, was at laſt remedied by placing all the citizens upon a level. This ſignal revolution excited an animating emulation between the Patricians and Plebeians; the former, by he⯑roic actions, labouring to maintain their ſuperiority; the latter ſtraining every nerve to equal them: the republic never at any other period produced ſo great men in the art of war.

But ſuch variety there is human affairs, that tho' men are indebted to emulation for their heroic ac⯑tions, yet actions of that kind never fail to ſuppreſs emulation in thoſe who follow. An obſervation is made above^e, that nothing is more fatal to the progreſs of an art, than a perſon of ſuperior genius, who damps emulation in others: witneſs the cele⯑brated Newton, to whom the decay of mathemati⯑cal knowledge in Britain is juſtly attributed. The obſervation holds equally with reſpect to action. Thoſe actions only that flow from patriotiſm are deemed grand and heroic; and ſuch actions, above all others, rouſe a national ſpirit. But beware of a Newton in heroiſm: inſtead of exciting emulation, he will damp it: deſpair to equal the great men who are the admiration of all men, puts an end to emu⯑lation. [240] After the illuſtrious atchievements of Mil⯑tiades, and after the eminent patriotiſm of Ariſtides, we hear no more in Greece of emulation or of pa⯑triotiſm. Pericles was a man of parts, but he ſa⯑crificed Athens to his ambition. The Athenians ſunk lower and lower under the Archons, who had neither parts nor patriotiſm; and were reduced at laſt to ſlavery, firſt by the Macedonians, and next by the Romans. The Romans run the ſame courſe, from the higheſt exertions of patriotic emulation, down to the moſt abject ſelfiſhneſs and effeminacy.

And this leads to other cauſes that extinguiſh pa⯑triotiſm, or relax it. Factious diſorders in a ſtate never fail to relax it; for there the citizen is loſt, and every perſon is beheld in the narrow view of a friend or an enemy. In the conteſts between the Patricians and Plebeians of Rome, the public was totally diſregarded: the Plebeians could have no heart-affection for a country where they were op⯑preſſed; and the Patricians might be fond of their own order, but they could not ſincerely love their country, while they were enemies to the bulk of their countrymen. Patriotiſm did not ſhine forth in Rome, till all equally became citizens.

To ſupport patriotiſm, it is neceſſary that a peo⯑ple be in a train of proſperity: when a nation be⯑comes ſtationary, patriotiſm ſubſides. The ancient Romans upon a ſmall foundation erected a great empire; ſo great indeed, that it fell to pieces by its unwieldineſs. But the plurality of nations, whe⯑ther from their ſituation, from the temper of their people, or from the nature of their government, are confined within narrower limits; beyond which their utmoſt exertions avail little, unleſs they hap⯑pen to be extraordinary favourites of fortune. When a nation becomes thus ſtationary, its puſhing genius is at an end: its plan is to preſerve, not to acquire: the members, even without any example of heroiſm [241] to damp emulation, are infected with the languid tone of the ſtate: patriotiſm ſubſides; and we hear no more of bold or heroic actions. The Venetians are a pregnant inſtance of the obſervation. Their trade with Aleppo and Alexandria did for centuries introduce into Europe the commodities of Syria, Egypt, Arabia, Perſia, and India. The cities of Nuremberg and Augſburgh in particular, were ſup⯑plied from Venice with theſe commodities; and by that traffick became populous and opulent. Venice, in a word, was for centuries the capital trading town of Europe, and powerful above all its neighbours, both at ſea and land. A paſſage to the Eaſt Indies by the Cape of Good Hope was indeed an animat⯑ing diſcovery to the Portugueſe; but it did not en⯑title them to exclude the Venetians. The greater diſtance of Venice from the Cape, a trifle in itſelf, is more than balanced by its proximity to Greece, Germany, Hungary, Poland, and to the reſt of Italy. But the Portugueſe at that period were in the ſpring of proſperity; and patriotiſm envigorated them to make durable eſtabliſhments on the Indian coaſt, overpowering every nation that ſtood in oppo⯑ſition. The Venetians, on the contrary, being a nation of merchants, and having been long ſucceſs⯑ful in commerce, were become ſtationary, and un⯑qualified for bold adventures. Being cut out of their wonted commerce to India, and not having reſolution to carry on commerce in a new channel, they ſunk under the good fortune of their rivals, and abandoned the trade altogether.

No cauſe hitherto mentioned hath ſuch influence in depreſſing patriotiſm, as inequality of rank and of riches in an opulent monarchy. A continual in⯑flux of wealth into the capital, generates ſhow, luxury, avarice, which are all ſelfiſh vices; and ſel⯑fiſhneſs, enſlaving the mind, eradicates every fibre [242] of patriotiſm^*. Aſiatic luxury, flowing into Rome in a plentiful ſtream, produced an univerſal corrup⯑tion of manners, and metamorphoſed into volup⯑tuouſneſs the warlike genius of that great city. The dominions of Rome were now too extenſive for a republican government, and its generals too power⯑ful to be diſintereſted. Paſſion for glory wore out of faſhion, as auſterity of manners had done for⯑merly: power and riches were now the only objects of ambition: virtue ſeemed a farce; honour, a chimera; and fame, mere vanity: every Roman, abandoning himſelf to ſenſuality, flattered himſelf, that he, more wiſe than his forefathers, was pur⯑ſuing the cunning road to happineſs. Corruption and venality became general, and maintained their uſurpation in the provinces as well as in the capital, without ever loſing a foot of ground. Pyrrhus at⯑tempted by preſents to corrupt the Roman ſenators, but made not the ſlighteſt impreſſion. Deplorable was the change of manners in the days of Jugurtha:—‘"Pity it is,’ ſaid he, ‘"that no man is ſo opulent as to purchaſe a people ſo willing to be ſold."’ Cicero, mentioning an oracle of Apollo, that Sparta would never be deſtroyed but by avarice, juſtly ob⯑ſerves, that the prediction holds in every nation as well as in Sparta. The Greek empire, ſunk in vo⯑luptuouſneſs without a remaining ſpark of patrio⯑tiſm, was no match for the Turks, enflamed with a new religion, that promiſed paradiſe to thoſe who ſhould die fighting for their prophet. How many nations, like thoſe mentioned, illuſtrious formerly for vigour of mind, and love to their country, are [243] now ſunk by contemptible vices as much below brutes as they ought to be elevated above them: brutes ſeldom deviate from the perfection of their nature, men frequently.

Succeſsful commerce is not more advantageous by the wealth and power it immediately beſtows, than it is hurtful ultimately by introducing luxury and voluptuouſneſs, which eradicate patriotiſm. In the capital of a great monarchy, the poiſon of opu⯑lence is ſudden; becauſe opulence there is ſeldom acquired by reputable means: the poiſon of com⯑mercial opulence is ſlow, becauſe commerce ſeldom enriches without induſtry, ſagacity, and fair deal⯑ing. But by whatever means acquired, opulence never fails ſoon or late to ſmother patriotiſm under ſenſuality and ſelfiſhneſs. We learn from Plutarch and other writers, that the Athenians, who had long enjoyed the ſunſhine of commerce, were extremely corrupt in the days of Philip, and of his ſon Alex⯑ander. Even their chief patriot and orator, a pro⯑feſſed champion for independence, was not proof againſt bribes. While Alexander was proſecuting his conqueſts in India, Harpalus, to whom his im⯑menſe treaſure was intruſted, fled with the whole to Athens. Demoſthenes adviſed his fellow-citizens to expell him, that they might not incur Alexander's diſpleaſure. Among other things of value, there was the King's cup of maſſy gold, curiouſly en⯑graved. Demoſthenes, ſurveying it with a greedy eye, aſked Harpalus what it weighed. To you, ſaid Harpalus ſmiling, it ſhall weigh twenty talents; and that every night he ſent privately to Demoſt⯑henes twenty talents with the cup. Demoſthenes next day came into the aſſembly with a cloth rolled about his neck; and his opinion being demanded about Harpalus, he made ſigns that he had loſt his voice. The Capuans, the Tarentines, and other Greek colonies in the lower parts of Italy, when [244] invaded by the Romans, were no leſs degenerate than their brethren in Greece when invaded by Philip of Macedon; the ſame depravation of manners, the ſame luxury, the ſame paſſion for feaſts and ſpec⯑tacles, the ſame inteſtine ſactions, the ſame indif⯑ference about their country, and the ſame contempt of its laws. The Portugueſe, enflamed with love to their country, when they diſcovered a paſſage to the Indies by the Cape of Good Hope, made great and important ſettlements in that very diſtant part of the globe; and of their immenſe commerce there is no parallel in any age or country. Prodi⯑gious riches in gold, precious ſtones, ſpices, per⯑fumes, drugs, and manufactures, were annually imported into Liſbon from their ſettlements on the coaſts of Malabar and Coromandel, from the king⯑doms of Camboya, Decan, Malacca, Patana, Siam, China, &c. from the iſlands of Ceylon, Sumatra, Java, Borneo, Moluccas, and Japan: and to Liſbon all the nations in Europe reſorted for theſe valuable commodities. But the downfall of the Portugueſe was no leſs rapid than their exalta⯑tion; unbounded power and immenſe wealth hav⯑ing produced a total corruption of manners. If ſincere piety, exalted courage, and indefatigable induſtry, made the original adventurers more than men; indolence, ſenſuality, and effeminacy, ren⯑dered their ſucceſſors leſs than women. Unhappy it was for them to be attacked at that critical time by the Dutch, who, in defence of liberty againſt the tyranny of Spain, were enflamed with love to their country, as the Portugueſe had been former⯑ly^*. The Dutch, originally from their ſituation a [245] temperate and induſtrious people, became heroes in the cauſe of liberty as juſt now mentioned; and patriotiſm was their ruling paſſion. Proſperous commerce ſpread wealth through every corner; and yet ſuch was the inherent virtue of that people, that their patriotiſm reſiſted very long the contagion of wealth. But as appetite for riches increaſes with their quantity, patriotiſm ſunk in proportion, till it was totally extinguiſhed; and now the Dutch never think of their country, unleſs as ſubſervient to private intereſt. With reſpect to the Dutch Eaſt-India company in particular, it was indebted for its proſperity to the fidelity and ſrugality of its ſervants, and to the patriotiſm of all. But theſe virtues were undermined, and at laſt eradicated, by luxury, which Europeans ſeldom reſiſt in a hot climate. People go from Europe in the ſervice of the company, bent beforehand to make their for⯑tune per fas aut nefas; and their diſtance from their maſters renders every check abortive. The company, eat up by their ſervants, is rendered ſo feeble, as to be incapable of maintaining their ground againſt any extraordinary ſhock. A war of any continuance with the Indian potentates, or with the Engliſh company, would reduce them to bankruptcy. They are at preſent as ripe for being ſwallowed up by any rival power, as the Portugueſe were formerly for being ſwallowed up by them. Quaeritur, Is the Engliſh Eaſt-India company in a [246] much better condition? Such is the riſe and fall of patriotiſm among the nations mentioned; and ſuch will be its riſe and fall among all nations in like circumſtances.

It grieves me, that the epidemic diſtempers of luxury and ſelfiſhneſs are ſpreading wide in Britain. It is fruitleſs to diſſemble, that profligate manners muſt in Britain be a conſequence of too great opu⯑lence, as they have been in every other part of the globe. Our late diſtractions leave no room for a doubt. Liſten to a man of figure, thoroughly ac⯑quainted with every machination for court-prefer⯑ment. ‘"Very little attachment is diſcoverable in the body of our people to our excellent conſtitu⯑tion: no reverence for the cuſtoms nor for the opinions of our anceſtors; no attachment but to private intereſt, nor any zeal but for ſelfiſh gra⯑tifications. While party-diſtinctions of Whig and Tory, high church and low church, court and country, ſubſiſted, the nation was indeed divided, but each ſide held an opinion, for which he would have hazarded every thing; for both acted from principle: if there were ſome who ſought to alter the conſtitution, there were many who would have ſpilt their blood to preſerve it from violation: if divine hereditary right had its partiſans, there were multitudes to ſtand up for the ſuperior ſanctity of a title founded on an act of parliament, and the conſent of a free peo⯑ple. But the abolition of party-names have deſtroyed all public principles. The power of the crown was indeed never more viſibly exten⯑ſive over the great men of the nation; but then theſe men have loſt their influence over the lower orders: even parliament has loſt much of its authority; and the voice of the multitude is ſct up againſt the ſenſe of the legiſlature: an impo⯑veriſhed and heavily-burdened public, a people [247] luxurious and licentious, impatient of rule, and deſpiſing all authority, government relaxed in every ſinew, and a corrupt ſelfiſh ſpirit pervad⯑ing the whole^f."’ It is a common obſerva⯑tion, that when the belly is full, the mind is at eaſe. That obſervation, it would appear, holds not in London; for never in any other place did riot and licentiouſneſs riſe to ſuch a height, without a cauſe, and without even a plauſible pretext^*.

It is deplorable, that in Engliſh public ſchools, patriotiſm makes no branch of education; young men, on the contrary, are trained up to ſelfiſhneſs. Keep what you get, and get what you can, is the chief leſſon inculcated at Weſtminſter, Wincheſter, and Eaton. Students put themſelves in the way of receiving vails from ſtrangers; and that dirty prac⯑tice continues, tho' far more poiſonous to manners, than the giving vails to menial ſervants, which the nation is now aſhamed of. The Eaton ſcholars are at times ſent to the highway to rob paſſengers. The ſtrong without control tyrannize over the weak, ſubjecting them to every ſervile office, wip⯑ing ſhoes not excepted. They are permitted to trick and deceive one another; and the fineſt fel⯑low is he who is the moſt artful. Friendſhip in⯑deed is cultivated, but ſuch as we find among rob⯑bers: a boy would be run down, if he had no aſſo⯑ciate. In a word, the moſt determined ſelfiſhneſs is the capital leſſon.

When a nation, formerly warlike and public⯑ſpirited, is depreſſed by luxury and ſelfiſhneſs, doth nature afford no means for reſtoring it to its former ſtate? The Emperor Hadrian declared the Greeks a free people; not doubting, but that a change ſo animating, would reſtore the fine arts to their priſ⯑tine [248] luſtre.—A vain attempt: for the genius of the Greeks vaniſhed with their patriotiſm; and liberty to them was no bleſſing. With reſpect to the Por⯑tugueſe, the decay of their power and of their com⯑merce, have reduced them to a much lower con⯑dition, than when they roſe as it were out of no⯑thing At that time they were poor, but innocent: at preſent they are poor, but corrupted with many vices. Their pride in particular ſwells as high as when maſters of the Indies. The following ridicu⯑lous inſtance is a pregnant proof: ſhoes and ſtock⯑ings are prohibited to their Indian ſubjects; tho' many of them would pay handſomely for the privi⯑lege. There is one obvious meaſure for reviving the Portugueſe trade in India; but they have not ſo much vigour of mind remaining, as even to think of execution. They ſtill poſſeſs in that country, the town and territory of Goa, the town and ter⯑ritory of Diu, with ſome other ports, all admirably ſituated for trade. What ſtands in the way but indolence merely, againſt declaring the places men⯑tioned free ports, with liberty of conſcience to traders of whatever religion? Free traders flocking there, under protection of the Portugueſe, would undermine the Dutch and Engliſh companies, which cannot trade upon an equal footing with private merchants; and by that means, the Por⯑tugueſe trade might again flouriſh. But that peo⯑ple are not yet brought ſo low as to be compelled to change their manners, tho' reduced to depend on their neighbours even for common neceſſaries. The gold and diamonds of Braſil are a plague that corrupt all. Spain and Portugal afford inſtructive political leſſons: the latter has been ruined by opu⯑lence; the former, as will be ſeen afterward, by taxes no leſs impolitic than oppreſſive. To enable theſe nations to recommence their former courſe, or any nation in the ſame ſituation, I can diſcover [249] no means but pinching poverty. Commerce and manufactures taking wing, may leave a country in a very diſtreſſed condition: but a people may be very diſtreſſed, and yet very vitious; for vices ge⯑nerated by opulence are not ſoon eradicated. And tho' other vices ſhould at laſt vaniſh with the temp⯑tations that promoted them, indolence and puſilla⯑nimity will remain for ever, unleſs by ſome power⯑ful cauſe the oppoſite virtues be introduced. A very poor man, however indolent, will be tempted for bread to exert ſome activity; and he may be trained gradually from leſs to more by the ſame means. Activity at the ſame time produces bodily ſtrength; which will reſtore courage and boldneſs. By ſuch means a nation may be put in motion with the ſame advantages it had originally; and its ſe⯑cond progreſs may prove as ſucceſsful as the firſt. Thus nations go round in a circle, from weakneſs to ſtrength, and from ſtrength to weakneſs. The firſt part of the progreſs is verified in a thouſand inſtances; but the world has not ſubſiſted long enough to afford any clear inſtance of the other.

I cloſe this ſketch with two illuſtrious examples of patriotiſm; one ancient, one modern; one among the whites, and one among the blacks. Ariſtides the Athenian is famed above all the an⯑cients for love to his country. Its ſafety and ho⯑nour were the only objects of his ambition; and his ſignal diſintereſtedneſs made it the ſame to him, whether theſe ends were accompliſhed by himſelf or by others, by his friends or his foes. One con⯑ſpicuous inſtance occurred before the battle of Ma⯑rathon. Of the ten generals choſen to command the Athenian army, he was one: but ſenſible that a divided command is ſubjected to manifold incon⯑veniencies, he exerted all his influence for delegat⯑ing the whole power to Miltiades; and at the ſame time zealouſly ſupported the propoſal of Miltiades, [250] of boldly meeting the Perſians in the field. His diſintereſtedneſs was ſtill more conſpicuous with re⯑gard to Themiſtocles, his bitter enemy. Suſpend⯑ing all enmity, he cordially agreed with him in every operation of the war; aſſiſting him with his counſel and credit, and yet ſuffering him to engroſs all the honours of victory. In peace he was the ſame, yielding to Themiſtocles in the adminiſtra⯑tion of government, and contenting himſelf with a ſubordinate place. In the ſenate and in the aſſem⯑bly of the people, he made many propoſals in a borrowed name, to prevent envy and oppoſition. He retired from public buſineſs in the latter part of his life; paſſing his time in training young men for ſerving the ſtate, inſtilling into them principles of honour and virtue, and inſpiring them with love to their country. His death unſolded a ſignal proof of the contempt he had for riches; he who had been treaſurer of Greece during the laviſhment of war, left not ſufficient to defray the expence of his funeral: a Britiſh commiſſary in like circumſtances acquires the riches of Croeſus.

The ſcene of the other example is Fouli, a negro kingdom in Africa. Such regard is paid there to royal blood, that no man can ſucceed to the crown, but who is connected with the firſt monarch, by an uninterrupted chain of females: a connection by males would give no ſecurity, as the women of that country are prone to gallantry. In the laſt cen⯑tury, the Prince of Sambaboa, the King's nephew by his ſiſter, was inveſted with the dignity of Ka⯑malingo, a dignity appropriated to the preſumptive heir. A liberal and generous mind, with undaunt⯑ed courage, rivetted him in the affections of the nobility and people. They rejoiced in the expec⯑tation of having him for their King. But their ex⯑pectation was blaſted. The King, fond of his children, ventured a bold meaſure, which was, to [251] inveſt his eldeſt ſon with the dignity of Kamalingo, and to declare him heir to the crown. Tho' the Prince of Sambaboa had for him the laws of the kingdom, and the hearts of the people, yet he re⯑tired in ſilence to avoid a civil war. He could not however prevent men of rank from flocking to him; which the King interpreting to be a rebellion, raiſed an army in order to put them all to the ſword. As the King advanced, the Prince retired, reſolving not to draw his ſword againſt an uncle, whom he was accuſtomed to call father. But finding that the command of the King's army was beſtowed on his rival, he made ready for battle. The Prince obtained a complete victory: but his heart was not elated: the horrors of a civil war ſtared him in the face: he bid farewell to his friends, diſmiſſed his army, and retired into a neighbouring kingdom; relying on the affections of the people to be placed on the throne after his uncle's death. During baniſhment, which continued thirty tedious years, frequent attempts upon his life put his temper to a ſevere trial; for while he exiſted, the King had no hopes that his ſon would reign in peace. He had the fortitude to ſtand every trial; when, in the year 1702, beginning to yield to age and misfortunes, his uncle died. His couſin was depoſed; and he was called by the unanimous voice of the nobles, to reign over a people who adored him.

SKETCH VIII.
FINANCES.