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 pe­culiar 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 [Page 2] characteristical of a person, or of a people, it be­longs 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 discus­sed by the greatest genius of the present age ^a.

I begin with external appearance, being the first thing that draws attention. The human counte­nance hath a greater variety of expressions than that of any other animal; and some persons differ wide­ly 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 va­riety in looks and gestures, than the different tones of mind would produce, were men left to the im­pulses 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 [Page 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 appe­tite for food. That appetite is proportioned in de­gree 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 Pata­gonians, 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 sa­vages expose the whole of the body without cover­ing. 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! Cloath­ing 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 cloath­ing 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, [Page 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 mix­ed 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 forti­fication. 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 [Page 5] these accoutrements. The sword continues an ar­ticle 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 cover­ing 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 ha­zard 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 in­difference: a naked Venus makes not such an im­pression, 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 toge­ther 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, ad­mitted 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. [Page 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 inter­course between the sexes would confine their appe­tites 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 free­dom of intercourse than among the ancient Ger­mans: 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 nume­rous tribe, were remarked by writers as neat and cleanly. In the island Otaheite, or King George's Island, both sexes are cleanly: they bathe fre­quently, [Page 7] never eat nor drink without washing be­fore and after, and their garments as well as their persons are kept free of spot or blemish. Ammi­anus Marcellinus, describing the Gauls, says, that they were cleanly; and that even the poorest wo­men were never seen with dirty garments. The negroes, particularly those of Ardrah in the slave­coast, 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 ap­pear dismal to that people, as to us ^*. But in­stances are no less numerous that favour the other side of the question. Amminianus Marcellinus re­ports 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 descrip­tion 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.

[Page 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 disa­greeable: 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 ^*.

[Page 9] Thus it appears, that a taste for cleanness is in­herent 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 wa­ter is always at hand for washing after the opera­tion. 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 be­tween 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 his­tory, 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 nasti­ness and slovenly habits of its people; ascribing to that cause the frequent plagues which at that time [Page 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 cu­riosity; 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 pur­gation; 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 re­duced to purge the stable of Augeas; for being prone to action, they suffer not dirt to rest unmo­lested. Industrious nations accordingly, all the world over, are the most cleanly. Arts and indus­try had long flourished in Holland, where Erasmus was born and educated: the people were clean above all their neighbours, because they were in­dustrious above all their neighbours; and upon that account the dirtiness of England could not fail to strike a Hollander. At the period mentioned, in­dustry was as great a stranger to England as clean­liness: 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 [Page 11] steam, which threatens to knock down every stran­ger. 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 cleanli­ness, 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 cleanli­ness; 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.

[Page 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 ma­nifest 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 whis­kers. 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 [Page 13] above. But it belongs to the present sketch, con­sidered 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 resem­blance to its cause. The like holds universally in all the natural sounds prompted by passion. Let a passion be bold, rough, chearful, tender, or hum­ble, 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 lan­guages. 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 pre­vails, and suggests to savages harsh sounds, confor­formable to their roughness and cruelty. The Esquimaux have a language composed of the harsh­est gutturals; and the tongues of the northern Eu­ropean 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 [Page 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 des­potism, imperious with respect to inferiors, and humble with respect to superiors. The govern­ment 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 Eng­lish 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 mas­culine. The Attic style is more difficult to be [Page 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 produ­ced rough manners; witness the comedies of Aris­tophanes, and the orations of Eschines and De­mosthenes. 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, not­withstanding 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 over­balanced 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 na­turally prone to motion; witness children, who are never at rest but when asleep. Where reason go­verns, 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 ac­tivity. After much fatigue in hunting, rest is sweet; which the savage prolongs, having no motive to action till the time of hunting returns. Savages ac­cordingly, like dogs, are extremely active in the [Page 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 eat­ing and dancing, and the rest in sleep; having no great share of memory, and still less of understand­ing. The character given of these savages belongs to all, especially to savages in hot climates. The imperfection of their memory and judgement is oc­casioned 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 man­ner, ignorant of such habitual wants as are com­monly [Page 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 himself ⁱ. 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 de­nominated 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. Ho­mer's heroes kill and dress their own victuals ⁿ. 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 ^*.

[Page 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 ene­mies. 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, splen­did 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, foment­ing discord and resentment: war is raised, even among those of the same tribe; and while it was [Page 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 pas­sions: witness pride in particular, which produced a custom, once universal among barbarians, of kil­ling men, women, dogs, and horses, for serving a dead chieftain in the other world. Such complica­tion of selfish and stormy passions, tending eagerly to gratification, and rendering society uncomforta­ble, cannot be stemmed by any human means other than wholesome laws: a momentary obstacle in­flames 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 pro­duce discord and resentment without end: the junc­tion of many such states into a great kingdom, re­move 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: hu­manity is in fashion, and social affections prevail. Men improve in urbanity by conversing with wo­men; and however selfish at heart, they conciliate favour, by assuming an air of disinterestedness. Selfishness thus refined becomes an effectual cause [Page 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 car­ried 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 pro­ductive of luxury and sensuality. As these increase, social affections decline, and at last vanish. This is visible in every opulent city that has long flourish­ed 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 po­lished 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 remark­able 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 [Page 21] massacred man, woman, and child. Procopius re­ports, 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 re­markable 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 hor­ror 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 bat­tle; and the man who brings not a head, gets no share of the plunder. He adds, that many Scythi­ans 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 deceas­ed, and refused. In similar circumstances men are the same all the world over. The scalping of ene­mies, 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 butch­ered 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. Agamem­non upbraided his brother for lenity: ‘"Let none [Page 22] from destruction escape, not even the lisping in­fant 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 set­ting 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, un­worthy 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 pathe­tically described; sovereigns massacred, and their bodies left a prey to dogs and vultures; sucking in­fants 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 con­quered, 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 Aga­memnon's gate; and the same savage manners are described in many other Greek tragedies. Prome­thus 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 spec­tacle and not be shocked at it? A scene representing [Page 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 Menan­der, 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 compas­sionate:

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 ap­pears: ‘"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 [Page 24] turns his back upon the near approach of Achilles: ‘"Periphetes, endowed with every virtue, renown­ed in the race, great in war, in prudence excel­ling 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 represent­ed 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 speci­men, [Page 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 Ro­mans is evident from every one of their historians. Brutality to their offspring was conspicuous. Chil­dren were held, like cattle, to be the father's pro­perty: 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 belong­ed 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 tyran­nically as to make a law necessary prohibiting the disinheriting of children, can there be any doubt of their cruelty to others? During the second trium­virate, horrid cruelties were every day perpetrated [Page 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 be­tween 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 mea­sure the pain of seeing these poor fellows cut and slash one another. And that the Romans were ne­ver 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 mon­sters 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 bar­barous 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, [Page 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 gal­lows, 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 hor­rid 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 eve­ry 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 pri­soners 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 man­ner: 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 Eng­lish at that period made severe punishments neces­sarary: but the punishment mentioned goes beyond severity; it is brutal cruelty. The barbarous treat­ment of the Jews, during the dark ages of Christi­anity, 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 [Page 28] council to have assassination condemned, as repug­nant 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 sensi­ble of pain, not their minds.

The restoration of arts and sciences in Europe, followed with a reformation in religion, had a won­derful 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 cir­cumscribed: 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 man­ners, were in Italy at that time accelerating toward [Page 29] perfection. The famous Latimer was in England condemned to be burnt for heresy: but bags of gun­powder 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 pro­scribed, but in many places their books, not even excepting books upon mathematics, and other ab­stract subjects. That persecution resembled in ma­ny particulars the persecution against the knights­templars: 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 Scot­land, if he has not suffered by unavoidable misfor­tune, 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 ambas­sador having brought her under suspicion of plotting with him against the government, she was con­demned to undergo the punishment of the knout. At the place of execution she appeared in a genteel undress, which heightened her beauty. Of what­ever 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 execution­ers; [Page 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, re­peating 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 with­out food, is ripped up, his heart cut out, and the head, severed from the body, is preserved in spice [Page 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 tramp­led on law, people formed associations for securing their lives and their possessions. These were com­mon 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 reite­rated statutes.

Roughness and harshness of manners are general­ly 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 gene­rous wine."’ In the fifth book Sarpedon upbraids Hector for cowardice. And Tlepolemus, ready to engage with Sarpedon, attacks him first with re­viling 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 [Page 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 harsh­est usage, they were prevented from multiplying by downright murder and massacre. Why did not such barbarity render the Spartans detestable, in­stead 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? [Page 33] Plainly because horses, their slaves, submit without resistance. An ingenious writer, describing Guia­na in the southern continent of America, observes, [Page 34] that the negroes, who are more numerous than the whites, must be kept in awe by severity of disci­pline. And he endeavours to justify the practice; urging, that beside contributing to the safety of the white inhabitants, it makes the slaves them­selves less unhappy. ‘"Impossibility of attainment,"’ says he, ‘"never fails to annihilate desire of enjoy­ment; 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 relish­ed 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 per­verseness ^*. That slaves in all ages have been harshly treated, is a melancholy truth. One ex­ception I know, and but one, which I gladly men­tion, in honour of the Mandingo negroes. Their slaves, who are numerous, receive very gentle treat­ment; 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 punish­ment than death. I would subscribe to that opinion, but for the following consideration, that the having [Page 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 hun­dred 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 de­void of bowels, who can establish such inhumanity by law. But time has rendered that practice fami­liar to the Dutch, so as to behold, with absolute indifference, the multiplied miseries of their fellow­creatures. It appears, indeed, that such a punish­ment would be more effectual than death, to re­press theft; but can any one doubt, that society would suffer more by eradicating pity and humani­ty, 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 ex­tremely 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 connect­ed with rough manners. The manners of the Greeks, as copied by Plautus and Terence, from Menander and other Greek writers, were extreme­ly coarse; such as may be expected in a people living among their slaves, without any society with virtuous women. The behaviour of Demosthenes [Page 36] and Eschines to each other, in their public ha­rangues, is woefully coarse. But Athens was a de­mocracy; and a democracy, above all other go­vernments, is rough and licentious. In the Athe­nian comedy, neither gods nor men are spared. The most respectable persons of the republic are ridiculed by name, in the comedies of Aristopha­nes, which wallow in looseness and detraction. In the third act of Andromaché, a tragedy of Euri­pides, Peleus and Menelaus, Kings of Thessaly and Sparta, fall into downright ribaldry; Mene­laus swearing that he would not give up his vic­tim, and Peleus threatening to knock him down with his staff. The manners of Jason, in the tra­gedy of Medea by Euripides, are woefully indeli­cate. 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 inde­licate manners is exhibited in the tragedy of Al­cestes. Admetus prevails upon Alcestes, his loving and beloved wife, to die in his stead. What a bar­barian 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 Cer­berus, 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 [Page 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 handy­work 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 centu­rions ^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 com­mon 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 [Page 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 abo­minable 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 Car­tularies 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. Se­veral feudal tenures give evidence of manners both low and coarse. Struvius mentions a tenure, bind­ing 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 Judge­ment of Paris was a favourite theatrical entertain­ment: 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 con­temptuous familiarity. In the thirteenth century, many clergymen refused to administer the sacra­ment [Page 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 banish­ed by polite manners. Our Queen Elizabeth was a bold swearer; and the English populace, who are rough beyond their neighbours, are noted by stran­gers for that vice. Tho' swearing, in order to en­force an expression, is not in itself immoral; it is, however, hurtful in its consequences, rendering sacred names too familiar. God's-beard, the com­mon 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 coin­ing 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 barba­rity, 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, throw­ing 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, [Page 40] and unbecoming the civility requisite in such a place ^d.

And this leads to the lowness of ancient man­ners; plainly distinguishable from simplicity of man­ners: 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 com­plains 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 hands ⁱ. 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 step­ping down from her car, and exhorting her ser­vants to look after her baggage, with the anxiety and minuteness of a lady's waiting woman. Ho­mer paints, in lively colours, the riches of the Phoeacians, their skill in navigation, the magni­ficence [Page 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, tra­velling to the river on a waggon of greasy cloaths, to be washed there by her and her maids. Pos­sibly it will be urged that such circumstances, however low in our opinion, might appear other­wise 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 man­ners? 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 Thucy­dides 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 stran­gers were accounted enemies, as among the Ro­mans; and inns were unknown, because people lived at home, having very little intercourse even with those of their own nation. Inns were un­known in Germany; and to this day are unknown in the remote parts of the Highlands of Scotland; but for an opposite reason, that hospitality prevail­ed greatly among the ancient Germans, and con­tinues to prevail so much among our Highlanders, that a gentleman takes it for an affront, if a stran­ger pass his house. At a congress between Francis I. of France, and Henry VIII. of England, among other spectacles for public entertainment, the two [Page 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 plea­sure 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 ene­mies. 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 par­ties found their account equally in such honourable behaviour. Edward Prince of Wales, in a pitched battle against the French, took the illustrious Ber­trand 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 li­berty without a ransom. This may be deemed im­politic or whimsical: but is love of glory less praise­worthy than love of conquest? The Duke of Guise, victor in the battle of Dreux, rested all night in the [Page 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 wound­ed in retreating from the Imperialists, placed him­self 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 di­rected his body to be embalmed, and to be sent to his relations in the most honourable manner. Mag­nanimity and heroism, in which benevolence is an essential ingredient, are inconsistent with cruelty, persidy, or any groveling passion. Never was gal­lantry in war carried to a greater height, than be­tween the English and Scotch borderers before the crowns were united. The night after the battle of Otterburn, the victors and vanquished lay promis­cuously 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 sub­stituted, 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 [Page 44] Duke de Randan, in the same war, makes an illus­trious 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 ex­tremely vigilant to prevent his soldiers from com­mitting acts of violence ^*. The necessity of fortify­ing [Page 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 re­markable period, when social and dissocial passions seem to bear equal sway, prevailing alternately. In the history of Alexander's successors, there are fre­quent instances of cruelty, equalling that of Ameri­can savages; and instances no less frequent of gra­titude, of generosity, and even of clemency, that betoken manners highly polished. Ptolemy of Egypt, having gained a complete victory over De­metrius, son of Antigonus, restored to him his equipage, his friends, and his domestics, saying, [Page 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 treat­ed 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 thea­tre, 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 sur­render, received a provoking and contemptuous an­swer. The town being taken, Andronicus gave himself over for lost: but the King, thinking it below his dignity to resent an injury against an in­ferior, 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 car­ried on with unusual rancour, yet the Duke of Guise, governor of the town, exerted in those bar­barous times a degree of humanity that would make a splendid figure even at present: He ordered plen­ty of food for those who were dying of hunger, ap­pointed surgeons to attend the sick and wounded, removed to the adjacent villages those who could bear motion, and admitted the remainder into the [Page 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 jour­ney.

In the period that intervenes between barbarity and humanity, there are not wanting instances of opposite passions in the same person, governing al­ternately; 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 hap­pened 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 re­posed 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 pe­riod 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 [Page 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 in­troduced 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 bar­barians 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 ac­cused 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 odi­ous, 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 gra­vity and reserve of a people, who have naturally all [Page 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 eve­ry art and in every science. Human nature is reduced to its lowest state, when governed by super­stition clothed with power.

We proceed to another capital article in the his­tory of manners, viz. the selfish and social branches of our nature, by which manners are greatly influ­enced. 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 provid­ing 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, ex­pects 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. [Page 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 kind­ly 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 pas­sion. But where a savage takes a liking to a parti­cular person, the whole force of his social affection being directed to a single object, becomes extreme­ly fervid. Hence the unexampled friendship between Achilles and Patroclus in the Iliad; and hence ma­ny such friendships among savages.

But there is much more to be said of the influence of opulence on manners. Rude and illiterate nati­ons 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 appe­tite [Page 51] for sensual pleasure. The appetite, when in­flamed, 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 indulg­ed the more they are inflamed. Polygamy is an incentive to the vice against nature; one act of in­continence 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 report­ed of the Algerines, that in many of their seraglios there are no women. For the same reason, poly­gamy 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 pas­sion, and where riches are coveted as instruments of sensuality? What is to be expected but a pestifer­ous 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 pu­nishment. Babylon is arraigned by Greek writers for luxury, sensuality, and profligacy. But Baby­lon 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 Em­peror 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 [Page 52] from abandoning himself to sensual pleasure, he pas­sed several months yearly in the mountains of Tar­tary, 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 temptati­ons 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 magnani­mity! 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 [Page 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 after­ward made a capital figure in the Mithridatic war, attacked Cauca, a Celtiberian city, without the slightest provocation. Some of the principal citi­zens 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 [Page 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 au­thor 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 ac­cused 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 neighbour­hood, lately conquered by him. He appointed them a day to receive possession; and having in­closed 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 ap­pearance, were disposed to amicable measures, de­manding 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 [Page 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, dur­ing 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 talents ⁱ: 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 Cras­sus, expresses himself in the following words. ‘"Biduo, per unum servum, et eum ex gladiato­rio 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, in­troductiones nonnullis judicibus pro mercedis cu­mulo suerunt ^{* k}."’ Ptolomy King of Egypt [Page 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 Ro­mans. But his gold, jewels, and precious move­ables, 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 pro­fligacy, is not commonly hoarded up; and the Ro­mans were no less voluptuous than avaricious. Alex­ander 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 Ti­berius 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 cow­ard. He who commands the labour of others, who eats without hunger, and rests without fatigue, be­comes feeble in mind, as well as in body, has no [Page 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 patrio­tism, is smooth, refined, and covered with a veil. Pecuniary interest, a low object, must be covered with the thickest veil: ambition, less disnonou­rable, is less covered: but delicacy, as to charac­ter 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 wea­pon, 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 ho­nour 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 de­liberating 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 cor­rupted 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 prove­ment. [Page 58] There is no remedy, but to let the na­tives 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-cham­ber 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 pre­cisely at nine in the evening. During the reign of Henry VIII. fashionable people in England break­fasted 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 ap­pears, that the occupations of day-light commence gradually later and later; as if there was a ten­dency 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 diversi­ons of night are sedentary; plays, cards, conver­sation. Balls are of a mixed nature; partly active, [Page 59] in dancing; partly sedentary, in conversing. For­merly, active exercises prevailed among a robust and plain people: the milder pleasures of society prevail as manners refine. Hence it is, that candle­light 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 pre­sent, 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 Ame­rica, 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 slave­coast of Guinea will stake their wives, their chil­dren, and even themselves. Tacitus ^l, talking of gaming among the Germans, says, ‘"Extremo ac novissimo jactu de libertate et de corpore con­tendant ^*."’ 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 mo­dish style, dishonourable. A gamester, a friend to no man, is a bitter enemy to himself. The luxu­rious of the present age pass every hour in gam­ing, that can be spared from sensual pleasure. Idle­ness is their excuse, as it is among savages; and [Page 60] they would in some degree be excusable, were they never actuated by a more disgraceful mo­tive.

Writers do not carefully distinguish particular customs from general manners. Formerly, wo­men 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 men­tioned; for the contrary is true. In Hindostan, established custom prompts women to burn them­selves alive, with the bodies of their deceased hus­bands; but from that singular custom, it would be a false inference, that the Hindow women are ei­ther more bold, or more affectionate to their hus­bands, than in other countries. The Polanders, even after they became Christians in the thirteenth century, adhered to the customs of their forefa­thers, 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 sanc­tuary, 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 re­marked 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 pre­sent the practice among American savages. The [Page 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 Ossi­an, 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 miracu­lous: 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 sen­timents and manners? And yet, upon a more ac­curate inspection, many weighty considerations oc­cur 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 [Page 62] do of Pompey and Caesar ^*. Many other particu­lars 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 considera­tions, I am not afraid, that even the most incredu­lous 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 occu­pations 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 [Page 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 High­landers know that their forefathers did not eat fish; and, supposing it to be known, it would re­quire 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 allusi­ons. I willingly give all advantages to the unbe­liever. Supposing the author of Ossian to be a late writer, embellished with every refinement of mo­dern 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 ex­isted three or four centuries at least. Our High­landers, at present, are rude and illiterate; and were, in fact, little better than savages, at the pe­riod mentioned. Now, to hold the manners de­scribed 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 [Page 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 be­lieve it, because it is impossible.]

But further: The uncommon talents of the au­thor 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 man­ners 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, [Page 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 impro­bable, 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 man­ners 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 distin­guish 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 Ossi­an 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 Ossi­an's striking pictures. I see not any other re­source.

Love of fame is painted by Ossian as the ruling passion of his countrymen, the Caledonians. War­riors 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 [Page 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 Morni ⁿ. 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 con­solation 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. Cor­mac will weep in his hall, and say, Where is Tura's chief? But my name is renowned, my [Page 67] same in the song of bards. The youth will say in secret, 'O let me die as Cuchullin died: re­nown 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 be­hold me amid the arms of my fathers ^p."’ Fin­gal 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 weak­ness 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 [Page 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, Fin­gal 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: Teu­tha'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 compani­ons of Cuchullin, and talk to him in the cave of his sorrow. For never more shall I be renown­ed 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, white­bosom'd Brag [...]la, mourn over the fall of my [Page 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 for­mer 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 de­parture 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 [Page 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 for­ward 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 country­men 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, [Page 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 de­parture. 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 stran­gers, 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 [Page 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 Fovar­gormo. 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 weak­ness 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 Roth­mar 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 sight­less 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 dwell­ing 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 de­sert [Page 73] sert come. It howls in thy empty court, and whistles over thy half-worn shield ⁱ."’ ‘"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 ter­ror 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 con­trary, 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 [Page 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 car­borne 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 steel ⁿ."’

Humanity to the vanquished is displayed in the following passages. After deseating in battle Swa­ran, 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 Fin­gal. [Page 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 Lath­mor ^p."’

After the scenes above exhibited, it will not be thought that Ossian deviates from the manners re­presented 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."’ ‘"Rath­mor 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 Dun­thalmo rose: he came by night with his war­riors; [Page 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 Scan­dinavian King, less polished, refused the invitation. Cairbar speaks: ‘"Spread the feast on Lena, and let my hundred bards attend. And thou, red­hair'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; to­morrow 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 fre­quent. 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 Tren­mor fears the foe ^u?"’

[Page 77] Cruelty is every where condemned as an infa­mous 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 stain­ed 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 to­ward Selma's walls. The feast is spread on Le­na: an hundred heroes reared the tomb of Cair­bar; but no song is raised over the chief, for his soul had been dark and bloody. We remem­bered 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 in­vention, and must be the work of knowledge and seeling.

[Page 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 man­ners above described, women ought to have made a considerable figure among the ancient Caledoni­ans. 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 stran­gers, 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 blue­eyed 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 [Page 79] were the deaths of thy steel. Often has Bra­gela 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 mix­ed 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 gene­rous 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 Duns­caich ^c."’ ‘"Ossian, King of swords, replied [Page 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 Everal­lin. 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 Cles­sammor, I came in my bounding ship to Balclu­tha's walls of towers. The winds had roared behind my sails, and Clutha's streams received my dark-bosomed vessel. Three days I remain­ed 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 ra­ven'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 daugh­ter: 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 [Page 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. Re­tire, my love, for it is night, and the dark winds [Page 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."’ Mal­vina 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 sight ⁱ?"’ ‘"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 wo­men, and thought as meanly of them as savages commonly do, it could never have entered the ima­gination of Ossian to ascribe to them those num­berless [Page 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 man­ners could never have been conceived by a savage. I say more: Supposing a savage to have been di­vinely inspired, manners so inconsistent with their own would not have been relished, not even com­prehended, by his countrymen. And yet that they were highly relished is certain, having been univer­sally 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, pro­moted 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 publish­ed 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 gentle­men 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 in­to our thoughts, that Bragéla or Malvina were so often drunk, as to require the reprimand of a pub­lic regulation? or that any hero of Ossian ever struck a woman of fashion in ire?

[Page 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, pecu­nias mutuas, quae sibi apud inferos redderentur, dare: quia persuasum habuerint, animas homi­num immortales esse. Dicerem stultos, nisi idem braccati sensissent quod palliatus Pythagoras sen­sit ^{* m}."’ All savages have an impression of im­mortality; 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 machi­nery, 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 man­ners, 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 [Page 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 man­ners be fictitious, I say again, that the author must have been inspired: they plainly exceed the inven­tion 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 them­selves: 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 Siculus ⁿ 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 mi­nimeque in [...]idiosi, qui per virtutem, non per do­lum, dimicare consueverunt ^*."’ And though [Page 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, altoge­ther 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 wor­ship; and that the druids, beside studying moral and natural philosophy, determined all controver­sies, and had some direction even in war. Caesar, less attentive to civil matters, comprehends these three orders under the name of druids; and ob­serves, 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 [Page 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 Ca­ractacus, a gallant British King, against the Ro­mans, 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 be­have 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 bel­lare ^{† 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 [Page 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 man­ners, which, as Strabo reports, were naturally in­nocent and void of malignity. It had beside a won­derful 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 conspi­cuous instance in the works of Ossian. Their capi­tal 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, ele­vated 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, [Page 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 lit­tle 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 over­looked, 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 man­ners be fully adequate may well admit of a doubt; but if authentic history be relied on, we can enter­tain 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 Caledoni­ans, 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 in­trinsic evidence, the same that is so copiously urged above: and now by authentic history that probabi­lity 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 pre­vailed. And yet in that people are discernible ma­ny remaining features of their forefathers the Cale­donians. They have to this day a disposition to war, and when disciplined make excellent soldiers, [Page 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: compar­ed 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 po­tent 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 Ossi­an. 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-con­trived forgery. But if a forgery, why so bold and improbable? why not invent manners more con­gruous 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.

[Page 91] The Danes, says Adam of Bremen, are remark­able 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 griev­ous 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 ex­peditions, instances are recorded of setting aside all the ships that exceeded those of the enemy, lest the victory should be attributed to superiority of num­bers. 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 ne­ver again appear in public. Frotho King of Den­mark, [Page 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 bene­fits 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 distinguish­ed 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 cul­tivated 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 atchieve­ments 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 celebrat­ed 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 pecu­liar energy; which is not difficult to be accounted [Page 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 with­out 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 plea­sure through all ages."’ In a collection of anci­ent 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 [Page 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 stor­my 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 [Page 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 car­borne 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 sen­timent, in which Scandinavian bards are far inferi­or: 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 nati­ons 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 ju­dicious 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: sor­row gnaws the heart of him who has not a single friend to advise with.
• Where is the virtuous man that hath not a fail­ing? 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.
• [Page 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 wel­comes one to the table of the stranger.

Hitherto the manners of the Scandinavians re­semble, in many capital circumstances, those deli­neated in the works of Ossian. I lay not, how­ever, great stress upon that resemblance, because such manners are found among several other war­like nations in the first stage of society. The cir­cumstance 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 re­semblance so complete with respect to a matter ex­tremely singular among barbarians, cannot fail to convert the most obstinate infidel, leaving no doubt of Ossian's veracity.—But I ought not to anti­cipate. One cannot pass a verdict till the evidence be summed up; and to that task I now proceed, with sanguine hopes of success.

[Page 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. Fla­vius 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 Den­mark applied themselves to arms ^f. Jornandes describes the women of the Goths as full of cou­rage, 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 Ra­venna, [Page 98] were bitterly reproached by their wives for cowardice ⁱ. 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, demand­ed who that woman was, who had behaved so gal­lantly; 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 phoenome­non 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 exa­mination.

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 [Page 99] suck the wounds of their husbands ^*. He men­tions 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 sanc­tum aliquid et providum putant: nec aut con­silia earum aspernantur, aut responsa negligun­tur ^†."’ 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 nor­thern 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 po­lygamy [Page 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 chasti­ty 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 sen­timents 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 Va­liant, of a later date. That prince, who made a [Page 101] figure in the middle of the eleventh century, tra­versed all the seas of the north, and made pira­tical incursions even upon the coasts of the Medi­terranean. 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, ex­ceeded ours in number. Terrible was the con­flict: 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 swim­ming: 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 Ha­vamaal, mentioned above, there are many ex­pressions 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 re­quires 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 endea­vouring to acquire the favour of their mistresses, [Page 102] by boasting of their accomplishments, such as their dexterity in swimming and scating, their talent in po­etry, 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 invent­ing 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 Scandi­navians, that beauty ought to be the reward of courage and military skill. A warrior was thought intitled to demand in marriage any young wo­man, 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 opini­on; for the stoutest fighter is not always the hand­somest fellow, nor the most engaging. And in the Histories of Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, many instances are related, of men generously interpos­ing to rescue young beauties from brutes, desti­tute 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 am­bassadors of Frotho, King of Denmark, commis­sioned [Page 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 ad­mitted to the young Princess, she rejected the offer: ‘"Because,"’ says she, ‘"your King has acquired no reputation in war, but passes his time effemi­nately at home."’ In Biorner's Collection of An­cient 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 Ingue­gerda, 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, be­fore 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 sup­plicate my father."’ The courtly youth, respect­fully 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 re­joice 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 ter­rible by a keen sword: the firmest shields he hews in pieces, and loads his followers with booty. Go, and prove thy valour, by attack­ing [Page 104] that hero: cause him to bite the dust, and Inguegerda shall be thy reward."’ Grymer, re­turning 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."’ Ingue­gerda exclaimed with grief, ‘"Alas! my fa­ther hath devoted thee to death."’ Grymer se­lected 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, rais­ing his sabre with both hands, lays Hialmar pro­strate 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 [Page 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 mis­tress. Joannes Magnus, Archbishop of Upsal, ob­serves, 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 nupti­als, when she was carried off by Suercher, King of Sweden. We have the authority of Saxo Gram­maticus, that Skiold, one of the first Kings of Denmark, fought a duel for a beautiful young wo­man, and obtained her for a wife. That author relates many duels of the same kind. It was indeed common among the Scandinavians, before they be­came 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 fre­quent. Fridlevus King of Denmark sent a solemn embassy to Hasmundus King of Norway, to de­mand 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 am­bassadors, ‘"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 [Page 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 ambas­sadors. Fridlevus sent other ambassadors, redoub­ling his intreaties for a favourable answer. Has­mundus said, that one refusal might be thought sufficient; and in a fit of passion put the ambassa­dors 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 pre­vail 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 wo­men equal the men, mutual esteem and affection naturally take place. Two Lapland odes commu­nicated to us by the author mentioned, leave no doubt of this fact, being full of the tenderest senti­ments that love can inspire. The following is a literal translation.

In the Scandinavian manners here described is dis­covered a striking resemblance to those described by Ossian. And as such were the manners of the Scan­dinavians 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 Ca­ledonian manners appear from Ossian to have been still more polished and refined than those of Scandi­navia; but that difference may have proceeded from many causes, which time has buried in ob­livion.

[Page 110] I make no apology for insisting so largely on Scan­dinavian manners; for they tend remarkably to sup­port the credit of Ossian, and consequently to ascer­tain a fact extremely interesting, that our forefa­thers 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 in­habitants of the plains were enslaved by the Ro­mans. The only circumstance peculiar to the Caledonians, is their mountainous situation: being less exposed to the oppression of foreigners, and far­ther 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 distinguish­ed taste ⁿ; 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 po­ems; 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 pro­bably the only work now remaining that was com­posed [Page 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 cli­mate, with such deformity on the face of the coun­try 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 disadvanta­geous circumstances.

Tho' permanent manners enter not regularly in­to 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 Hol­land, 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 [Page 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 exer­tion, 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 occupa­tion of hunting for food produced originally some degree of industry: and though all the industry of man was at first necessary for procuring food, cloath­ing, and habitation; yet the soil, by skill in agri­culture, 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 man­ners: 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 pro­vided 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 [Page 113] on bodily strength ^*. The disadvantages of a fer­tile soil, on the contrary, are more than sufficient to counterbalance its advantages: the inhabitants are rendered indolent, weak, and cowardly. Hin­dostan may seem to be an exception; for though it be extremely fertile, the people however are indus­trious, 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 con­tributes 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 coun­try would tempt them to abandon it. Opposed to Arragon stands Egypt, the fertility of which ren­ders the inhabitants soft and effeminate, and conse­quently an easy prey to every invader ^†. The [Page 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 aban­doned 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 con­stitution of man to his external circumstances. Food is extremely precarious in the hunter-state; some­times superabounding with little fatigue, sometimes failing after great fatigue. A savage, like other ani­mals of prey, has a stomach adjusted to that varie­ty: he can bear a long fast; and gorges voracious­ly 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 pe­culiarly fond of spirituous liquors. Drinking was a fashionable vice in Greece, when Menander, Phi­lemon, 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, [Page 116] and to such of their countrymen as had fallen brave­ly 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. Coata­rini 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 dis­charged 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 bur­dened 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 glut­tons 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 na­ture 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 [Page 117] it he performs wonders. Machines have rendered bodily strength of little importance; and as men labour less than originally, they eat less in propor­tion ^*. 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, be­verages 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 mo­tion did not long continue retrograde: good cook­ery, and the pleasure of eating in company, turn­ed 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, conti­nuing over their cups day and night, keeping open house, and spending the income of their estates in riotous feasts, where eating and drink­ing were carried to excess, without any ele­gance."’ 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 learn­ed [Page 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 cus­tards 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 communi­cating opinions, sentiments, and desires, were to them utterly unknown. There appeared, how­ever, 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 his­tory. 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 master­households. Twelve hundred officers, in an uni­form 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 pro­digious 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 [Page 119] Watkin Williams Wynn to a company of 1500 persons, on his coming of age, is a sample of an­cient 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, not­withstanding that it proveth very beneficial to the physicians, who most abound where most excess and misgovernment of our bodies do ap­pear."’ He adds, that claret, and other French wines, were despised, and strong wines only in re­quest. 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 va­riety: 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, break­fast 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. Dur­ing lent, a loaf of bread, two manchets, a quart of beer, a quart of wine, two pieces of salt fish, six [Page 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 liv­ing was at the time high luxury: a lady's waiting­woman 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 domes­tics. 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 co­lours, and in all figures, representing flowers, trees, beasts, fish, fowl, and fruit. Henry Wardlaw Archbishop of St. Andrew's, observing the refine­ments in cookery introduced by James I. of Scot­land, who had been eighteen years a prisoner in England, exclaimed against the abuse in a parlia­ment [Page 121] held at Perth 1433: he obtained a law, re­straining superfluous diet; and prohibiting the use of baked meat to any under the degree of gentle­men, 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 luxu­rious 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 favou­rite dish at Rome, termed the Trojan boar, in al­lusion 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 former­ly; 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 minc­ed 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 [Page 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 autho­rity 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 char­coal, 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-fur­niture. 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 Northumber­land's household-book, mentioned above, it ap­pears, that the linen allowed for a whole year [Page 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 men­tions his conversing with old men who remarked many alterations in England within their remem­brance; that their fathers, and they themselves formerly, had nothing to sleep on but a straw pal­lat, 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, perad­venture, lay seldom on a bed entirely of feathers. Another thing they remarked, was change of house­hold-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 dis­tinctions, with respect to landed rent especially, are invidious; nor can they ever be kept up. [Page 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 night­time, his household servants flew to his bed-cham­ber, 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 no­tions of luxury: every new object of sensual grati­fication, 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, talk­ing of the war that his countrymen carried on suc­cessfully against Antiochus King of Syria: ‘"Lux­uriae 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 ha­bebantur, monopodia et abacos Romam advexe­runt. Tunc psaltriae, sambusistriaeque, et con­vivalia Iudionum oblectamenta addita epulis▪ epulae quoque ipsae et cura et sumptu majore ad­parari 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 [Page 125] erant futurae luxuriae ^{* d}."’ Household-furni­ture at Rome must at that period have been ex­ceedingly 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. Gal­vanus Fiamma, who in the fourteenth century wrote a History of Milan, his native country, com­plains, 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 Fi­amma, for stating as articles of luxury what are no more but decent for a tradesman and his wife. [Page 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 con­veniencies 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 co­verings 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. Confec­tions 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 [Page 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 de­fend 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 sup­posed to be a sufficient hardening for the timber of the house; so it was reputed a far better me­dicine 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 pre­sented 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 high­landers 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. ‘"Robustis­simus educat viros, qui, nulla frugum luxuria moliti, saepius impugnant alios quam impugnan­tur ^*."’ In the mountainous island of Rum, one [Page 128] of the western islands of Scotland, the corn produ­ced serves the inhabitants but a few months in win­ter. 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 plea­sure 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 cus­tomary, is held to be an excess, blameable as below the dignity of human nature. Thus every improve­ment in living is pronounced to be luxury while re­cent, and drops that character when it comes into common use. For the same reason, what is mode­ration in the capitol, is esteemed luxury in a coun­try town. Doth luxury then depend entirely on comparison? is there no other foundation for distin­guishing [Page 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. Ac­cording 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 lan­guage, and in common apprehension, luxury al­ways 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 habi­tual: 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 brand­ed with that odious name. Mental pleasure, such as arises from sentiment or reasoning, falls not with­in 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 morn­ing 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 [Page 130] against drinking-glasses as an article of luxury. At that rate, a house adorned with fine pictures or sta­tues 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 ex­cess 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 con­nected, that the one cannot be at ease while the [Page 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 ma­chine in order, certain exercises are proper for the body, and certain for the mind; which ought ne­ver to encroach the one on the other. Much mo­tion 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. Bo­dily indolence breeds the gout, the gravel, and ma­ny other diseases: nor is mental indolence less per­nicious, for it breeds peevishness and pusillanimity. Thus health both of mind and body is best preserved by moderate exercise. And hence a general propo­sition, That every indulgence in corporeal pleasure, which favours either too violent or too languid ex­ercise, 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 indul­gence is condemned by the moral sense; for every man can bear testimony of this from what he him­self 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 na­ture requires, loads the stomach, depresses the spi­rits, and brings on a habit of listlessness and inacti­vity, [Page 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 luxuri­ous table, covered with every dainty, seems to be their favourite idol. A minister of state never with­stands a feast; and the link that unites those in op­position is, the cramming one another ^†. I shall not be surprised to hear, that the cramming a mis­tress has become the most fashionable mode of court­ship. 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 [Page 133] among the sons of Albion. How different the man­ners of their forefathers! Bonduca their Queen, ready to engage the Romans in a pitched battle, encouraged her army with a pathetic speech, urg­ing 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 cli­mates of Asia, people of rank are rubbed and chaf­fed 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 ex­cuse for that practice: it was luxury in them, though not in the Asiatics.

[Page 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 men­tal operations, without hurting bodily health. The travelling on horseback, though a less vigorous ex­ertion of strength than walking, is not luxury, be­cause 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 ener­vate 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 in­dolence. 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 hack­ney-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 bro­thers, 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 publish­ed 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 Lon­don 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. Sedan­chairs were not known in England before the year 1634. Cookery and coaches have reduced the mi­litary [Page 135] spirit of the English nobility and gentry to a languid state: the former, by overloading the bo­dy, 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 ser­vants 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. Alexan­der 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 em­ploy his own hands upon what is dearest to him, his own body ⁱ?"’

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 [Page 136] every sympathetic affection brings on a beastly sel­fishness, which leaves nothing of man but the exter­nal 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 tor­ture. 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 sym­pathy blunted by familiarity: a new play upon a similar plan would not take. The gradual decay of manhood in Britain appears from their fune­ral 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 re­membrance 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 ef­feminacy 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 attend­ing 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 [Page 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 re­spect 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 unhap­pily, 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 for­tune, or his profits, accustoms his children to luxury, and abandons them to poverty when he dies. Luxury, at the same time, is a great ene­my to population: it enhances the expence of liv­ing, and confines many to the bachelor-state. Luxu­ry 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 *}."’

[Page 138] To consider luxury in a political view, no re­finement of dress, of the table, of equipage, of habitation, is luxury in those who can afford the expence; and the public gains by the encourage­ment that is given to arts, manufactures, and com­merce. But a mode of living above a man's an­nual 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 satis­fied 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 ex­pence. At first, a merchant retires to his country-house, on Sundays only and holydays: but begin­ning 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 pru­dent 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.

[Page 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 luxu­ry 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 man­ner [Page 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 exten­sive views into human nature, and yet have been little attended to by writers. I grieve at the ne­glect, because the present enquiry requires an an­swer to these questions, however abstruse.

As many animals, beside man, are social, it ap­peared 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 instruc­tive 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 pre­sent 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, insti­gated by hunger, they join in attacking a village: as fear prevents them singly from an attempt so ha­zardous, their casual union is prompted by appe­tite 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; [Page 143] and they never venture but in a body to attack any living creature that appears formidable. Upon so­ciety 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-hold­ing it from such animals, the goodness of Provi­dence to its favourite man, is conspicuous: their strength, agility, and voracity, make them singly not a little formidable: I should tremble for the hu­man race, were they disposed to make war in com­pany ^*.

[Page 144] Such harmless animals as cannot defend them­selves singly, are provided with an appetite for so­ciety, 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 anti­pathy [Page 145] between that animal and the American tyger, it is not uncommon to find a tyger slain with a num­ber 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 in­nocent 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, con­structed with so much art as to withstand the great­est 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 de­fence, their next care is to provide food and habi­tation. 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 un­der holds their provisions, which are trees cut down by united labour, and divided into small portable parts ^a. Bees are a similar instance. Aristo­tle ^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 com­mon."’ 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, suffi­ciently capacious for lodging the whole tribe; co­vering [Page 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 de­fence or for food. It appears to be distributed by weight and measure, in order to accommodate the internal frame of animals to their external circum­stances.

On some animals an appetite for society is be­stowed, 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 aca­demicians employed to measure a degree of the me­ridian toward the north pole, reports, that at Tor­neo all bulky goods are carried in boats during sum­mer; 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, ren­dezvous [Page 147] at a certain part of the forest, where they separate into troops, and occupy different pasture­fields; 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 wea­ther 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. No­thing 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 ap­petite for associating with the whole species. Eve­ry 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 re­tire, or be stung to death. Every work of Provi­dence contributes to some good end: a small tribe [Page 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 oc­curred when I had no view of turning them to ac­count. 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 al­ways appointed, who must not sleep, under pain of being torn to pieces. They preserve the same dis­cipline when they rob an orchard: a centinel on a high tree is watchful to announce the very first ap­pearance 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 dis­tinctly. 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 ene­my, [Page 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 un­frequented: 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 instant­ly 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 dis­lodge 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 ra­tional men. It is not uncommon for a rook to pil­fer sticks from another's nest; and the pilferer's nest is demolished by the lex talionis. Perverse in­clinations require government, and government requires laws. As in the case now mentioned, the whole society join in inflicting the punishment, go­vernment among rooks appears to be republican. Apes, on the contrary, are under monarchical go­vernment. [Page 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 mo­narchical; 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 sta­ble, 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 [Page 151] ever deserted its party, or even changed its resting­place. 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 no­thing 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 Provi­dence. But what I have chiefly in view at present is, to observe, that government among brute ani­mals, however simple, appears to be perfect in its kind; and adapted with great propriety to their na­ture. Factions in the state are unknown: no en­mity 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 testi­mony of all men, each vouching for himself. There is accordingly no instance of people living in a so­litary state, where the appetite is not obstructed by some potent obstacle. The inhabitants of that part of New Holland which Dampier saw, live in socie­ty, though less advanced above brutes than any other known savages; and so intimate is their so­ciety, that they gather their food, and eat, in com­mon. The inhabitants of the Canary islands lived in the same manner, when first seen by Europeans, which was in the fourteenth century; and the sa­vages [Page 152] mentioned by Condamine, drawn by a Jesuit from the woods to settle on the banks of the Oroo­noko, 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 ap­ply one of the observations made above. Abstract­ing 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 associa­ation 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 in­to 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 power­ful. 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 gra­tification. An extensive empire is an object too bulky: national affection is too much diffused; and [Page 153] the mind is not at ease till it finds a more contracted society, corresponding to the moderation of its ap­petite. 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 so­cial connections ^*. Initiations among the ancients were probably owing to the same cause; as also as­sociations of artisans among the moderns, pretend­ing mystery and secrecy, and excluding all strangers. Of such associations or brotherhoods, the free ma­sons excepted, there is scarce now a vestige remain­ing.

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 an­other 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.

[Page 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 ge­neral, 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 per­haps with others, before it is susceptible of any pas­sion. All weak animals are endowed with a princi­ple 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 ac­quaintance enlarges, especially in those who rely on bodily strength. Nothing tends more effectually to dissipate fear, than consciousness of security in the [Page 155] social state: in solitude, no animal is more timid than man; in society, none more bold. But re­mark, 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 abso­lute 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 resolv­able 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 gene­ral. 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 au­thority, I propose to verify it by clear and substan­tial facts. But to avoid the multiplying instances unnecessarily, I shall confine myself to such as con­cern the aversion that neighbouring tribes have to each other; taking it for granted, that private af­fection, and love to our country, are what no per­son doubts of. I begin with examples of rude na­tions, where nature is left to itself, without culture. The inhabitants of Greenland, good-natured and inoffensive, have not even words for expressing an­ger or envy: stealing among themselves is abhor­red; 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 diffe­rent 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 [Page 156] other voyagers, say, that they are addicted to thiev­ing: and their testimony occasioned these islands to be called Ladrones. Pere le Gobien, on the con­trary, says, that, far from being addicted to thiev­ing, they leave every thing open, having no distrust one of another. These accounts differ in appear­ance, not in reality. Magellan was a stranger; and he talks of stealing from him and from his compa­nions. Father Gobien lived long among them, and talks of their fidelity to each other. Plan Car­pin, 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 an­ciently were held to be pirates: but not properly; for they committed depredations upon strangers on­ly. Caesar, speaking of the Germans ^e, says, ‘"Latrocinia nullam habent infamiam quae extra fines cujusque civitatis fiunt ^*."’ This was pre­cisely the case of our highlanders, till they were brought under due subjection after the rebel­lion 1745. Bougainville observes, that the inhabi­tants 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 re­turn 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 [Page 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 fo­reigner was not admitted to be a witness. Hence it is that, in ancient history, we read of wars with­out intermission among small states in close neigh­bourhood. 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 land­ing. Orellana, lieutenant to Gonzales Pisarro, was the first European who sailed down the river Ama­zon 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 ca­noes.

Nor does such aversion wear away even among polished people. An ingenious writer ^h remarks, that almost every nation hate their neighbours, with­out 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. Travel­lers report, that the people of the duchy of Milan, [Page 158] remarkable for good-nature, are the only Italians who are not hated by their neighbours. The Pied­montese and Genoese have an aversion to each other, and agree only in their antipathy to the Tuscans. The Tuscans dislike the Venetians; and the Ro­mans 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 stran­gers; 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 South­sea islands, mentioned above ⁱ, appear to have lit­tle 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 remark­able 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 gen­tle disposition; they treat one another with affecti­on: [Page 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 exhi­bited 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 na­ture, is reserved to close the present sketch.

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

We are taught by the great Newton, that attrac­tion and repulsion in matter are, by alteration of circumstances, converted one into the other. This holds also in affection and aversion, which may be [Page 160] termed, not improperly, mental attraction and re­pulsion. 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 pre­vails, which gives birth to envy and detraction. In the former, a court, with public amusements, pro­mote general acquaintance: repulsion yields to at­traction, and people become fond to associate with their equals. The union of two tribes into one, is another circumstance that converts repulsion into at­traction. 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 mo­narch; and this was also the case of the two king­doms of England and Scotland. In some circum­stances 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 prison­ers 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. Hospita­lity 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 prohi­bent, sanctosque habent; iis omnium domus pa­tent, [Page 161] victusque communicatur ^*."’ The ancient Spaniards were fond of war, and cruel to their ene­mies; but in peace, they passed their time in sing­ing 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 ne­groes of Fouli are celebrated by travellers as ex­tremely kind to strangers. The native Brazilians are singularly hospitable. A stranger no sooner ar­rives among them than he is surrounded with wo­men, who wash his feet, and set before him to eat the best things they have. If a stranger have occa­sion 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 formida­ble 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 disa­greeable during peace, are laid asleep during a fo­reign war.

On the other hand, attraction is converted into repulsion by various causes. One is, the splitting a [Page 162] great monarchy into many small states; of which the Assyrian, the Persian, the Roman, and the Sa­racen 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 re­tain 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 ob­struction. But we have not yet finished our jour­ney; 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 na­ture would be wofully imperfect, if man had an ap­petite 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 examin­ing the conduct of man, he is to us a disgustful ob­ject 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 va­rious. I instance first, several corresponding prin­ciples or propensities, that cannot be exerted nor gratified but in society, viz. the propensities of ve­racity, and of relying on human testimony; appe­tite for knowledge, and desire to communicate [Page 163] knowledge; anxiety in distress to be pitied, and sympathy with the distressed; appetite for praise, and inclination to praise the deserving ^†. Such cor­responding 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 gra­tification, and make them happy in it. But this is not all, nor indeed the greater part. Do not bene­volence, 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 de­gree 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 for­midable 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 [Page 164] friends, for liberty to suck the blood of their ene­mies; 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 author ⁿ. ‘"Not to mention Dionysius the elder, who is computed to have butchered in cold blood above 10,000 of his fellow-citizens; nor Aga­thocles, Nabis, and others, still more bloody than he; the transactions even in free govern­ments 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 no­bles, and afterwards their own demagogues, be­cause they had refused to carry their prosecutions farther. The people also in Corcyra killed 1500 of the nobles, and banished 1000. These num­bers will appear the more surprising, if we con­sider the extreme smallness of those states. But all ancient history is full of such instances."’ Up­on a revolution in the Saracen empire, ann. 750, where the Ommiyan family was expelled by that of the Abassians, Abdolah, chief of the latter, pub­lished 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 ap­pearance 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 offi­cers, [Page 165] ‘"in order,"’ said he, ‘"that we may be ex­hilarated with the dying groans of the Ommi­yans."’ 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 inter­course 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 barba­rous and cruel manners, depredations, burning of houses, bloodshed and massacre without end. Pit­scottie says, that oppression, theft, sacrilege, ra­vishing 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, par­ties are often formed upon words merely. Whig and Tory subsisted long in England, upon no better foundation. The Tories professed passive obedi­ence; but declared, that they would not be slaves. The Whigs professed resistance; but declared it un­lawful 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, [Page 166] he cannot have faith; and consequently under faith are comprehended good works. The other ac­knowledges, that good works imply good intention, or, in other words, faith; and consequently, un­der good works faith is comprehended ^o. The fol­lowing instance, solemnly ludicrous, is of parties formed merely from an inclination to differ, without any cause real or verbal. No people were less inte­rested in the late war between the Queen of Hun­gary 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 pub­lic. But our catalogue is not yet complete. Dif­ferences concerning civil matters make no figure compared with what concerns religion. It is lament­able to observe, that religious sects resemble neigh­bouring 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 oc­casioned by differences in religious tenets, I cannot bear to dwell longer upon such horrid scenes.

What conclusion are we to draw from the fore­going 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 diffe­rent objects, and at different times upon the same object. This observation serves indeed to explain a seeming inconsistency in our nature, as being at [Page 167] one time highly social, and at another time no less dissocial: but it affords not a solution to the ques­tion, Whether, upon the whole, men be fitted for society, and for being happy in it. In order to a so­lution, 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 affec­tion 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 neigh­bouring islands. The inhabitants of the new Philip­pine islands, if Father Gobien be credited, are bet­ter 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 happi­ness 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 be­come 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 si­lent, [Page 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 particu­lar, 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 uni­versal conqueror, perfected men in the art of sub­duing their passions, or of dissembling them. Find­ing now no enjoyment but in society, we are soli­citous 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 sin­gle family in concord and mutual affection! Here indeed would be perpetual sunshine, a gold­en 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, [Page 169] that were the whole visible, it would appear beau­tiful. 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 over­whelm 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 ren­der such evils insupportable: the slight inconve­niencies 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 tra­g [...]dy: an English audience would fall asleep at the [Page 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 improve­ment in society; yet to me it appears evident, that men as individuals would suffer more by that im­provement, than they would gain as members of society. In order to preserve the rules of justice un­tainted, and to maintain perfect concord and affec­tion 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 bane­ful 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 altoge­ther insipid. Paragua, when governed by the Jesuits, affords a fine illustration. It was divided into parishes, in each of which a Jesuit presided as [Page 171] king, priest, and prophet. The natives were not suffered to have any property, but laboured inces­santly 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 re­gret 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 ex­pence of virtue. The lives of the Maltese knights is far from being agreeable, now that their knight­errantry 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 [Page 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 acci­dents: 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, hug­ging 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 re­flect, 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 sa­vage 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 con­stant and varied exercise, will remain weak and un­distinguishing 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: de­prive 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 fa­culty [Page 173] at work for means to accomplish desire. The mind, by continual exercise, ripens to its perfec­tion; and, by the same means, is preserved in vigour. It would have no such exercise in the sup­posed 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 de­scribed 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 per­fection, give them food without labouring for it. Need we any other cause for their inferiority of un­derstanding, compared with the inhabitants of other climates, where the mind, as well as body, are constantly at work for procuring necessaries ^*?

[Page 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 Pro­vidence? 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 [Page 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 [Page 176] blindness of men with respect to the dispensations of Providence! A golden age would to man be more [Page 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 [Page 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 alto­gether 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 de­lineated, 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 go­vernment, the duty of submission alone is not suf­ficient: diversity of temper and of talents are also necessary; and accordingly it is so ordered by Pro­vidence, 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 as­sume authority without the formality of election, and the rest will as naturally submit. A regular government, founded on laws, was probably not [Page 180] thought of, till people had frequently suffered by vicious governors ^*.

During the infancy of national societies, govern­ment is extremely simple; and no less mild than simple. No individual is by nature intitled to ex­ercise 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 ad­vising, leaving execution to the young and vigo­rous ^†. War indeed cannot be carried on without a commander; but originally his authority was li­mited to actual war; and he returned home a pri­vate [Page 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. In­troduction 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 in­flamed 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 re­pressing their turbulent passions; and becoming by degrees regular and orderly, they are easily restrain­ed 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 au­thority; and when its authority is firmly rooted in the minds of the people, punishments more rigo­rous can be made effectual; and such punishments are necessary among a people not yet well disciplin­ed. When men at last become regular and orderly under a steady administration, punishments become less and less necessary, and the mildest are suffi­cient, ^b. [Page 182] The Chinese government is extremely mild, and its punishments are in the same tone. A capital punishment is never inflicted, till the sen­tence be examined by a sovereign court, and ap­proved 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 huma­nity ^*.

SKETCH III.
Different FORMS OF GOVERNMENT compared.

OF all governments, democracy is the most tur­bulent: despotism, which benumbs the men­tal 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 embrac­ing steadily a prudent measure. Thucydides re­lates ^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 suf­fering victory to slip out of his hands: but the Ar­gians, 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 [Page 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 con­demned to death, for attempting innovations in the established religion: the sentence was grossly un­just; 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 Car­thaginian 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 misfor­tune, 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 de­mocracy is in its nature rash, violent, and fluctuat­ing; 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 citi­zens. Inequality of riches cannot be prevented in a commercial state; but inequality of privileges may be prevented, by excluding no citizen from the [Page 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 per­petual 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 collect­ing 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 pa­triotism; 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 command­ing. [Page 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, illustri­ous for virtue and talents. Reflect upon Cincinna­tus, eminent among heroes for disinterested love to his country. Had he been a Briton, a seat in par­liament would have gratified his ambition, as afford­ing 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 bat­tles 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 mak­ing. This definition is lame; for laws made by the people are not always just. There were many unjust laws enacted in Athens during the democrati­cal 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 improv­ing society, and for promoting industry and honesty among the people. If that definition be just, des­potism [Page 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 Per­sian 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 ter­ror: 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 hein­ous 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 Elisa­beth 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 re­main till they be tried in the secret court of chan­cery. 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 [Page 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, de­scribed by Herodian ^c. The body being burnt privately, a waxen image representing the Em­peror 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 nobi­lity carry the bed upon their shoulders, and place it in the old forum, where the Roman magistrates formerly laid down their office. Then begin dole­ful ditties, sung to his memory by boys and women. These being ended, the bed is carried to the Cam­pus [Page 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 quan­tity 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 despo­tic, 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 mis­fortune 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 [Page 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 ap­pears 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 thou­sand foreign ships frequented its ports annually. But the King, tempted with so much riches, endea­voured 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 furni­ture: their food is fruit that grows spontaneously; and their covering is a piece of coarse cloth, wrap­ped 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 profi­table, 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, ob­structs its own gratification: were industry duly en­couraged, 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 [Page 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 Eu­rope. Its pastures, in particular, are excellent, producing admirable horses, with an incredible number of sheep and horned cattle; and its indus­trial 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, ig­norant 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 domi­nions, tends, above all other governments, to ren­der him insecure. He becomes odious by oppressi­on; and every hand would be raised against him, [Page 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 Sove­reign are equally frequent, and equally successful. The moment an usurper seizes the palace, all ob­structions 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 unfavou­rable 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 news­papers, are no less useful for instructing the King, than for securing his subjects. In France, the mi­nistry 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, occasi­oned [Page 193] by unwholesome food, and want of accom­modation, 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 parti­culars; 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 honour­ed ^*. A republic so modelled inspires virtues of every sort. The people of Switzerland seldom [Page 194] think of writing to confirm a bargain: a law­suit 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. De­mocracy will never be recommended by any en­lightened politician, as a good form of govern­ment; were it for no other reason, but that pa­triotism cannot long subsist where the mob go­verns. In monarchy, the king is exalted so high above his subjects, that his ministers are little bet­ter 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 re­maining pursuit, promotes avarice to be their ruling passion. Now, if patriotism be not found in mini­sters who have power, far less in men who have no power; and thus in monarchy, riches are pre­ferred 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 go­vernment 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 con­stitution. 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 [Page 195] for commerce, became a great and flourishing trad­ing 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 de­fensive or offensive. Their great object accordingly was power; to which end they were always dis­posed 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 em­ploy 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 suc­cessful 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.

[Page 196] I next compare different forms of government, with respect to the influence of opulence. Riches, which, joined with ambition, produce bold at­tempts 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, extinguish­ed patriotism, and rendered their democracy un­just, violent, and tyrannical. It had another bad effect; which was, to make them ambitious of conquest. The sage Plutarch charges Themisto­cles 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 Ro­mans, 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, de­voted 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 Car­thage proved to be the fate of Rome. Inequality [Page 197] of rank, opulence, and luxury, relaxed every fun­damental principle of the commonwealth, parti­cularly 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 avail­ed himself in his Gallic war, by debauching from their duty the best disciplined army of the re­public: 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 Ham­burgh or Holland, may subsist long as a common­wealth, without much hazard from the opulence of individuals. But an extensive territory in the hands of a few opulent proprietors is dangerous in a com­monwealth; because of their influence over num­bers who depend on them for bread. The island of Britain is too large for a commonwealth. This oc­curred 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 prevent­ed 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 par­liament. 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 espe­cially, who are not taught to govern their passions. [Page 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 cru­elty; in others, mildness, and affection for their people: in some, unbounded ambition, surmount­ing 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 culti­vating peace; some fond of war. During the non­age of society, men exert their natural bias with­out 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 influ­ence 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 for­merly. 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 rele­gated 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 [Page 199] the public are kept alive in monarchical govern­ments; because the King, to whom execution of law is intrusted, seldom benefits by their trans­gression. 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 multi­tude, frequently no better than a mob, will ne­ver with constancy direct execution against them­selves.

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 mu­tual 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 origi­nally 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 con­quest they were united in one great kingdom. Portugal still maintains its independency, a bles­sing 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 conquer­ed 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 mo­narch? There are several causes that for ever will [Page 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. Eu­rope 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 excep­tion in Europe; a weak kingdom by situation, though rendered formidable by the extraordinary talents of one man, and of more than one wo­man.

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 neigh­bours, falls to pieces by its weight and unwieldi­ness. Its frontiers are not easily guarded: witness France, which is much weakened by that cir­cumstance, [Page 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 ba­shaws, are always ripe for a revolt. To secure Nicomedia, which had frequently suffered by fire, Pliny suggested to the Emperor Trajan, a fire­company 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 dis­turbances 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 ca­pital, 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 wor­shipped as a passport to power, as well as to plea­sure, they corrupt the heart, eradicate every virtue, and foster every vice. In such dissolution of man­ners, 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 jus­tice by appetite, and who is debilitated by corpo­real pleasures? Such a prince never thinks of heading his own troops, nor of extending his do­minions. 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 [Page 203] the only person who appeared careless about the fate of his empire. A King of Persia, being in­formed that the Turks had made themselves ma­sters 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 extin­guished 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 in­dolent, 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 gover­nor 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 Genera­lissimo; which satisfies the people, who pierce no deeper than what eye-sight discovers. A revolution [Page 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 pub­lic, 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, throw­ing 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 fa­tigues de la guerre, qui parvenoient à faire de­scendre du trone une famille noyée dans les deli­ces, conservassent la vertu qu'ils avoient eprou­v [...]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'affoi­blit, 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 de­vient 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 suc­cesseus [Page 205] va dans le meme palais se renfermer en­core ^*."’

Little reason, then, have we to apprehend the coalition of all nations into an universal monarchy. We see, indeed, in the history of mankind, fre­quent 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 fall­ing 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 pro­vinces, losing all regard for a voluptuous and effe­minate monarch, take courage, set up for them­selves, and assume regal authority, each in his own [Page 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 dismem­bered 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, poi­soned 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 indepen­dent. 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 em­pire, had it not been subdued by Alexander of Ma­cedon. 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 sove­reigns. About the time that a passage to the East-Indies by the Cape of Good Hope was dis­covered, the great peninsula beyond the Ganges was comprehended under the powerful empire of Bisnagar. Its first monarchs had established them­selves 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 com­merce, [Page 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 pom­pous, 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 pro­vinces. 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 prospe­rous 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 inde­pendent: every advantage will be on their side, as the attack must be by sea, from a very great dis­tance. Being thus delivered from a foreign yoke, their first care will be, the choice of a proper go­vernment; and it is not difficult to foresee what go­vernment [Page 208] will be chosen. A people, animated with the new blessings of liberty and independence, will not incline to a kingly government. The Swiss can­tons joined in a federal union, for protection against the potent house of Austria; and the Dutch em­braced 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 aver­sion 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 se­nate; 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 ene­mies: 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 languish­eth where its objects are too many, or too few: and hence it is, that the most heroic actions are per­formed 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 emula­lation, 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 gover­nors daily, talk familiarly of their errors, and pub­lish 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 ar­my cannot easily be separated from the people; and [Page 210] for that reason, is very little dangerous. The Ro­man 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 spaci­ous barrack within the city, in order to gain more authority over them, and to wean them from fami­liarity with the people. Tacitus, in the 4th book of his Annals, relates the story in the following words. ‘"Vim praefecturae modicam antea, in­tendit, dispersas per urbem cohortes una in castra conducendo; ut simul imperia acciperent, nu­meroque et robore, et visu, inter se, fiducia ipsis, in caeteros metus, crearetur ^*."’

What is said above suggests the cause of a curi­ous 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 circum­stance 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 im­pression 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.

[Page 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 magnifi­cence 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 be­neficence of the Chinese government to those who suffer shipwreck, gives a more advantageous im­pression 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 mas­sacred 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 [Page 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, fur­nished 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 cordi­ality. 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 eulo­gium 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 com­mon 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 undoubt­edly established by law; for it has not the appear­ance of an occasional or singular act of benevolence. If so, China is the only country in the world, [Page 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 Portu­gal, cannot naturally be productive of good writers; because where there are few readers, there is no sufficient incitement to exert literary talents: a clas­sical work produced at present in the Celtic lan­guage, would be little less than a miracle. France is eminent above all other nations for the encou­ragement it affords to good writers: it is a popu­lous 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 considera­ble; 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 pro­spect of so many readers, though in distant parts of the globe, must rouse our ambition; and our am­bition 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 ma­nifold disadvantages. The first is, the corruption of its kings, which, with a different view, is men­tioned in the sketch immediately preceding. And [Page 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 sub­ject to no controul but that of their master, com­monly 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 re­peated 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 con­cluding 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 pro­vinces. Their power is precarious; and they op­press the people without intermission, in order to amass wealth: the complaints of the people are dis­regarded; 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 de­tection. Arbitrary taxes are imposed on the peo­ple, and excessive duties on goods imported, which are rigorously exacted, and converted by the go­vernor 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 [Page 215] the appointed quantity, whether his land has pro­duced 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 for­tune engender luxury, selfishness, and sensuality ^*. The fine arts, it is true, gain ground, manufac­tures 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 revolu­tions, [Page 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 nume­rous army will soon learn to contemn a pusillani­mous leader, and to break loose from every tie of subjection: the sovereign is often changed at the caprice of the army; but despotism continues in­variable. In Turky, Janisaries dethrone the Sul­tan, without scruple; but being superstitiously attached to the royal family, they confine them­selves to it in electing a new Sultan. The Preto­rian bands were the Janissaries of the Roman empire, who never scrupled to dethrone the Em­peror 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 affec­tion 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 at­tends such undertakings; for the sovereign has no soul, and the people have no patriotism. In Hin­dostan, formerly, some discontented favourite or souba took up arms to avenge fancied, or perhaps affected wrongs: venturing not however upon in­dependence, he screened himself with setting up some person of the royal blood, whom he proclaim­ed sovereign. The voluptuousness and effeminacy of the late kings of Persia have rendered that king­dom 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.

[Page 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 monar­chy, having long subsisted in peace without a single enemy, sunk into sloth and effeminacy, and be­came an easy prey to the kings of Media and Ba­bylon. These two nations, in like circumstances of sloth and effeminacy, were in their turn swal­low'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 de­fence, were they enlarged beyond their present ex­tent: 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 sel­dom within reach. The victor, advancing with celerity, lays siege to the capital, before the pro­vincial troops can be formed into a regular army: the capital is taken, the empire dissolved, and the [Page 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 guard­ed. The Greek republics thought themselves suf­ficiently 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 Astu­ria, 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 with­in 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 go­vernors, 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 tyran­nize without control, and, during the short period [Page 219] of their power, neglect no means, however op­pressive, 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 Ro­mans 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 feu­datory 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 com­monly guarded by fortified towns. The other frontiers of Persia are guarded by feudatory princes; and he same method is practised in China, in Hin­dostan, 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 wea­ther is not the only instance of distrusting Provi­dence: it is a common topic to declaim against war; ‘"Scourge of nations, Destroyer of the hu­man 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, whe­ther 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 substan­tial? Let us not abandon the field without making at least one effort.

Humanity, it must be acknowledged, gains no­thing from the wars of small states in close neigh­bourhood: such wars are brutal and bloody; be­cause they are carried on with bitter enmity against individuals. Thanks to Providence, that war at [Page 221] present bears a less savage aspect: we spare indivi­duals, and make war upon the nation only: barbari­ty and cruelty give place to magnanimity; and sol­diers 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 ^*. [Page 222] Friendship is in peace cool and languid; but in a war for glory, exerts the whole fire of its enthusi­asm. [Page 223] The long and bloody war sustained by the Netherlanders against the tyrant of Spain, made [Page 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 na­tion of frogs and fishermen. The Swiss, by con­tinual struggles for liberty against the potent house of Austria, became a brave and active people, fear­ed and courted by neighbouring princes. Their fe­deral union has secured to them peace and tranquil­lity; 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 pu­sillanimous: their way of life, which removes them from danger, enervates their minds, and ren­ders them spiritless and cowardly.

[Page 225] Industry, manufactures, and wealth, are the fruits of peace; but advert to what follows. Luxu­ry, a never-failing concomitant of wealth, is a slow poison, that debilitates the mind, and renders it in­capable of any manly exertion; courage, magnani­mity, heroism, come to be ranked among the miracles that are supposed never to have existed but in fable; and the fashionable properties of sensuali­ty, 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 indivi­duals.

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 in­section 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 en­joyed peace, without disturbance. A state that is a tempting object to an invader, without means of defence, is in a woful situation. The re­public of Venice was once famous for the wisdom of its constitution, and for being the Christian bul­wark against the Turks; but by long peace it has become altogether effeminate. Its present princi­ples of government are conformable to its character. Every cause of quarrel with a neighbour is anxious­ly 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 [Page 226] neighbours. Hannibal appeared upon the stage too early: had the Romans, after their conquest of Ita­ly, 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 con­fined 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 invad­ders. 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 spi­rity 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 Em­peror 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 [Page 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 fol­lowing account of them. Charmed with the fertili­ty 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 dan­cers, pantomimes, and other gay entertainments: their villas were splendid, and their gardens were adorned with water-works, beautiful trees, and odo­riferous flowers: no regard to chastity, nor to any manly virtue. In that effeminate condition, they made scarce any resistance to Belisarius with an ar­my far inferior to their own in number. The Sa­racens of Asia, corrupted by prosperity and opu­lence, 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 cor­rupt 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 him­self 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 ene­my with a disciplined army, and pierced to the ca­pital without meeting any resistance. The king of [Page 228] Whidah with his women had fled to an island, and his people were all dispersed. It amazed the con­queror, 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 opportuni­ty 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 en­joys in a strict and regular government, will in time render that warlike people effeminate and cow­ardly: 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 astonish­ment, 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 de­generated by long peace, from the courage and pa­triotism 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 pro­vince with such a panic, that multitudes, for fear of [Page 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 pro­viding for defence: we never were invaded without being subdued ^*.

Montesquieu, in a warm panegyric on the Eng­lish constitution, has overlooked one particular, in which it is superior to every other monarchy; and that is, the frequent opportunities it affords of exert­ing mental powers and talents. What agitation a­mong the candidates and their electors on the ap­proach 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, ge­rates factions, which sometimes generate revoluti­ons: 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 despo­tism ^†.

[Page 230] Law-suits within a state, like war between diffe­rent states, accustom people to opposition, and pre­vent 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 [Page 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 in­nocent, 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 con­demned 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 con­dition 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 un­daunted courage; which are exerted with better will in behalf of virtue than of revenge. The cru­sades were what first gave a turn to the fierce man­ners of our ancestors. A religious enterprise, which united numbers, formerly at variance, enlarged the sphere of social affection, and sweetened the man­ners 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 conse­quences 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 [Page 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 won­derfully 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 pro­mises, became the distinguishing virtues of a gen­tleman. It is true, that the enthusiasm of protect­ing widows and orphans, degenerated sometimes in­to extravagance; witness knights who wandered about in quest of adventures. But it would be un­fair to condemn the whole order, because a few of their number were foolish. The true spirit of chi­valry 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 man­ners ^c? Are peace, luxury, and selfishness, ca­pable 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 rea­son, they never would make war. Hear the cele­brated Rousseau on that subject. ‘"Un prince, qui pour reculer ses frontiers, perd autant de ses an­ciens sujets qu'il en acquiert de nouveaux, s'af­foiblit 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 [Page 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 irre­parable 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'agri­culture; 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 con­quêtes moins intéressantes, c'est qu'on sait main­tenant par quels moyens on peut doubler et tripler sa puissance, non seulement sans étendre son ter­ritoire, 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 nour­rissent le même nombre d'habitans, celui qui oc­cupe une moindre étendue de terre, est réelle­ment 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 ha­zard ^*."’ But war is necessary for man, being a [Page 234] school for improving every manly virtue; and Pro­vidence renders kings blind with respect to their true interest, in order that war may sometimes take place. To rely upon Providence in the govern­ment 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, un­less when they join in an expedition against an ene­my, 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 govern­ment 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, term­ed 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 ^*?"’

[Page 236] Social passions and affections, beside being great­ly 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 extin­guished. No source of enjoyment is more plenti­ful 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 pre­vails, 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 illus­trious. 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 pe­riod patriotism was their ruling passion; and success attended them in every undertaking. Where pa­triotism 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 de­fence of their country. The city was indeed de­stroyed; 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 [Page 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 in­trepidity, 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 fa­mine, they were no longer able to crawl. While the Portuguese were eminent for patriotism, Lo­pez 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 un­wounded. 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 fa­mily 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 strug­gles for liberty, which were frequent during the government of the Stewart family, and which end­ed in a free government at the Revolution.

Patriotism is too much cramped in a very small state, and too much relaxed in an extensive monar­chy. 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 [Page 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 illustri­ous instance of the patriotic spirit rising to a degree of enthusiasm. Patriotism, roused among the Cor­sicans by the oppression of the Genoese, exerted it­self 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 libra­ry; 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 suc­cess, 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 vio­lent struggle: a nation in that state resembles a comet, which in passing near the sun, has been [Page 239] much heated, and continues full of motion. Pa­triotism 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, au­sterity of manners, and disinterested love to their country, formed the national character. The ele­vation 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 he­roic 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 ac­tions, 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 cele­brated Newton, to whom the decay of mathemati­cal 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 emu­lation. [Page 240] After the illustrious atchievements of Mil­tiades, and after the eminent patriotism of Aristides, we hear no more in Greece of emulation or of pa­triotism. Pericles was a man of parts, but he sa­crificed 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 pa­triotism, 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 op­pressed; 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 peo­ple be in a train of prosperity: when a nation be­comes 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, whe­ther 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 hap­pen 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 [Page 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 sup­plied 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 animat­ing discovery to the Portuguese; but it did not en­title 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 oppo­sition. The Venetians, on the contrary, being a nation of merchants, and having been long success­ful in commerce, were become stationary, and un­qualified 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 in­flux of wealth into the capital, generates show, luxury, avarice, which are all selfish vices; and sel­fishness, enslaving the mind, eradicates every fibre [Page 242] of patriotism ^*. Asiatic luxury, flowing into Rome in a plentiful stream, produced an universal corrup­tion of manners, and metamorphosed into volup­tuousness the warlike genius of that great city. The dominions of Rome were now too extensive for a republican government, and its generals too power­ful to be disinterested. Passion for glory wore out of fashion, as austerity of manners had done for­merly: 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 pur­suing 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 at­tempted 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 ob­serves, that the prediction holds in every nation as well as in Sparta. The Greek empire, sunk in vo­luptuousness without a remaining spark of patrio­tism, 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 [Page 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 opu­lence is sudden; because opulence there is seldom acquired by reputable means: the poison of com­mercial opulence is slow, because commerce seldom enriches without industry, sagacity, and fair deal­ing. 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 Alex­ander. Even their chief patriot and orator, a pro­fessed champion for independence, was not proof against bribes. While Alexander was prosecuting his conquests in India, Harpalus, to whom his im­mense 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 en­graved. 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 Demost­henes 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 [Page 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 spec­tacles, the same intestine sactions, the same indif­ference 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. Prodi­gious riches in gold, precious stones, spices, per­fumes, drugs, and manufactures, were annually imported into Lisbon from their settlements on the coasts of Malabar and Coromandel, from the king­doms 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 exalta­tion; unbounded power and immense wealth hav­ing 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, ren­dered 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 former­ly ^*. The Dutch, originally from their situation a [Page 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 for­tune 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 [Page 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 opu­lence, 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 ac­quainted with every machination for court-prefer­ment. ‘"Very little attachment is discoverable in the body of our people to our excellent constitu­tion: no reverence for the customs nor for the opinions of our ancestors; no attachment but to private interest, nor any zeal but for selfish gra­tifications. 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 peo­ple. But the abolition of party-names have destroyed all public principles. The power of the crown was indeed never more visibly exten­sive 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 impo­verished and heavily-burdened public, a people [Page 247] luxurious and licentious, impatient of rule, and despising all authority, government relaxed in every sinew, and a corrupt selfish spirit pervad­ing the whole ^f."’ It is a common observa­tion, 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 prac­tice 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, wip­ing shoes not excepted. They are permitted to trick and deceive one another; and the finest fel­low is he who is the most artful. Friendship in­deed is cultivated, but such as we find among rob­bers: a boy would be run down, if he had no asso­ciate. In a word, the most determined selfishness is the capital lesson.

When a nation, formerly warlike and public­spirited, 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 pris­tine [Page 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 Por­tuguese, the decay of their power and of their com­merce, have reduced them to a much lower con­dition, than when they rose as it were out of no­thing 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 ridicu­lous instance is a pregnant proof: shoes and stock­ings are prohibited to their Indian subjects; tho' many of them would pay handsomely for the privi­lege. 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 ter­ritory of Diu, with some other ports, all admirably situated for trade. What stands in the way but indolence merely, against declaring the places men­tioned 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 Por­tuguese trade might again flourish. But that peo­ple 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 opu­lence; 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 [Page 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 ge­nerated by opulence are not soon eradicated. And tho' other vices should at last vanish with the temp­tations that promoted them, indolence and pusilla­nimity will remain for ever, unless by some power­ful 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 se­cond 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 an­cients for love to his country. Its safety and ho­nour 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 con­spicuous instance occurred before the battle of Ma­rathon. Of the ten generals chosen to command the Athenian army, he was one: but sensible that a divided command is subjected to manifold incon­veniencies, he exerted all his influence for delegat­ing the whole power to Miltiades; and at the same time zealously supported the proposal of Miltiades, [Page 250] of boldly meeting the Persians in the field. His disinterestedness was still more conspicuous with re­gard to Themistocles, his bitter enemy. Suspend­ing 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 administra­tion of government, and contenting himself with a subordinate place. In the senate and in the assem­bly 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 cen­tury, the Prince of Sambaboa, the King's nephew by his sister, was invested with the dignity of Ka­malingo, a dignity appropriated to the presumptive heir. A liberal and generous mind, with undaunt­ed courage, rivetted him in the affections of the nobility and people. They rejoiced in the expec­tation of having him for their King. But their ex­pectation was blasted. The King, fond of his children, ventured a bold measure, which was, to [Page 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 re­tired 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.