FERGUSON
HISTORY
CIVIL
SOCIETY
CB
25
F35
1768
of
UKRIS PENINSULAMAMO NAM
1
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
LİBRARI VERITAS
21837
ARTES
SCIENTIA
OF THE
TERMIN
SASTI
TCEDOR
CIRCUMSPICE
Anantnim
atiti LED LURIDHIHIRITUT
HITTITUTKINTI
THIS BOOK
FORMS PART OF THE
ORIGINAL LIBRARY
OF THE
UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
BOUCHT IN EUROPE
1838 TO 1839
BY
ASA GRAY
-
33
25
с
о
!
1
年
​-
15:00
AN
het
1
E S S A. Y
ON THE
H I S
TO RY
OF
CIVIL
SO CI E T Y.
!
By ADAM FERGUSON, LL. D.
PROFESSOR of MORAL PHILOSOPHY in the UNIVERSITY of EDINBURGH,
The SECOND EDITION, CORRECTED.
+
L O N D ON:
Printed for A. MILLAR and T. CADELL, in the STRAND; and
A. KINCAID and J. BELL, EDINBURGH.
MDCCLXVIII.
1
r
1
C Ο Ν Τ Ε Ν Τ S.
с о
P A R T I.
Of the General Characteriſtics of Human Nature.
SECTION 1.
Of the queſtion relating to the State of Nature,
Page 1
SECT.
II.
Of the principles of Self-preſervation,
15
S E C T.
III,
Of the principles of Union among Mankind,
23
SECT.
IV.
Of the principles of War and Diſſenfion,
29
S E C T.
V.
plan
Of Intelle&tual Powers,
38
1
SECT.
VI.
Of Moral Sentiment,
47
M
S E C T.
VII.
Of Happineſs,
60
a 2
SECT.
$
1
iv
CONTENT SE
S ECT
VIII.
T
The fame ſubject continued,
Page 72:
.
IX.
S E C T..
Of National Felicity;.
86.
X.
S E C T.
The ſame ſubject continued,
***
.
94.
P A R T
II:
.
of the Hiſtory of Rude Nations..
SECTION 1.
Of the informations on this fubje£t, which are derived
from. Arstiguity,
II
{
SECT. II.
Of Rude Nations, prior to the Efabliſhment of Property,.
123
S E C T.
IH.
Of Rude Nations, under the Impreſſions of Property, and
Intereſt,
146
PART
III:.
of the Hiſtory of Policy and Arts..
1
SECTION I.
Of the Influences of Climate and Situation,
165
SECT,
5
1
4
1
C O N T E N T Si
S E C T.
II..
The Hiſtory of Subordination,
Pag. 183
11
S E C T.; III.
Of National Objects in general, and of Eſtabliſhments and
Manners relating to them,
207
SECT.
IV.
Of Population and Wealth,
270
11
210
V.
S E C. T..
Of National Defence and Conqueſt,
224
S ECT..
VI.
Of Civil Liberty,
ali
236
VII.
SECT.
Of the Hiſtory of Arts,
257
VIIL
+
S E C T.
C
of the Hiſtory of Literature,
262
PART
IV.
Of Conſequences that reſult from the Advancement.
of Civil and Commercial Arts.
SECTION I.
Of the Separation of Arts and Profeſſions,
276
SECT
#
11
*
gvi
CO. N. TEN: T.S.
SE CT. II.
Of the Subordination conſequent to the Separation of
Arts and Profeſſions,
Page 282
SECT. III.
of the Manners of Poliſhed and Commercial Nations,
288
IV.
S E C T.
The ſame ſubje&I continued,
12
295
PAR TV.
Of the Decline of Nations.
SECTION I.
Of ſuppoſed National Eminence, and of the Viciſtudes of
Human Affairs,
312
SE Ć T.
II.
Of the Temporary Efforts and Relaxations of the National
Spirit.
32.1
S E C T.
III.
Of Relaxations in the National Spirii, incident to Poliſhed
Nations,
328
S E C T.
IV.
The fame ſubject continued,
345
S ECT.
V.
Of National Waſte,
,
A
357
PART
7
1
+
C O N T E N T S.
Τ Τ
vii
P ART
VI.
>
Of Corruption and Political Slavery.
SECTION I.
Of Corruption in general,
Page 362
S E C T. II..
Of Luxury,
375
S E C T. III.
Of the Corruption incident to Poliſhed Nations,
1
16!
382
SECT.
Iy.
The ſame ſubject continued,
&
392
1
S E C T.
V.
Of Corruption, as it tends to Political Slavery,
401
S E C T.
VI.
Of the Progreſs and Termination of Deſpotiſin,
419
I
a
11 ulliLink
aja
十
​中​。
T」
官
​|
查
​季
​}
4W
ch
H
-
1
11
j
AN
1
I'I
E S
S
A
Y.
*
ON THE HISTORY OF
2
CIVIL
SOCIETY
iť, 4,
14
3
og 08:00 totoo
*****
000$$$$$oooo
PART FIRST.
tu
Of the 'GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS OF HUMAN
NATURE,
14
H.
w
*
00000 gegono
0 0 0 0 0
to
10oooo
SECTION I.
C.
Of the queſtion relating to the State of Nature.
H
M
2
N
!
A
ATURAL productions are generally formed by
degrees. Vegetables are 'raiſed from a tender
Thoot, and animals from an infant ſtate. The
latter being deſtined to act, extend their ope-
rations as their powers increaſe: they exhibit a progreſs
in what they perform, as well as in the faculties they
acquire. This progreſs in the caſe of man is continued
A
to
5
14
Kate
..
Тң.
.
11
ka
2
2
Of the queſtion relating to
Part I.
1
1#
r
w
Wh
to a greater extent than in that of any other animal. Not
only the individual advances from infancy to manhood,
but the ſpecies itſelf from rudeneſs to civilization. Hence
the fuppofed departure of mankind from the ſtate of their
nature; hence our conjectures and different opinions of
what man muſt have been in the firſt age of his being.
The poet, the hiſtorian, and the moraliſt, frequently al-
ude to this ancient time ; and under the emblems of gold,
or of iron, repreſent a condition, and a manner of life,
from which mankind have cither degenerated, or on which
they have greatly improved. On either fuppofition, the
firſt ſtate of our nature muſt have borne no reſemblance-
to what men have exhibited in any ſubſequent period;
hiſtorical monuments, even of the earlieſt date, are to be
conſidered as novelties.; and the moſt common eſtabliſh-
ments of human ſociety are to be claffed among the in-
croachments which fraud, oppreflion, or a buſy inven-
tion have made upon the reign of nature, by: which the
chief of our grievances or bleſſings were equally with..
held:
hali
1
1
II
4
1
1
AMONG' the writers who have attempted to diſtin--
guiſh, in the human character, its original qualities, and
to point out the limits between nature and art, fome
have repreſented mankind in their firſt condition, as pof-
feſſed of mere animal ſenſibility, without any exerciſe of.
the faculties that render them ſuperior to the brutes, with-.'1-
out any political union, without any means of explaining
their fentiments, and even without poſſeſſing any of the
apprehenfions and paflions which the voice and the gefa
ture
رام اس پر
។
I
9
11
11
#
.
11
4
JH
I
16711
Il
CHI
Sect. I.
the State of Nature. .
3
ture are ſo well fitted to expreſs. Others have made the
ſtate of nature to conſiſt in perpetual wars, kindled by
competition for dominion and intereſt, where every indi-
vidual had a ſeparate quarrel with his kind, and where
the preſence of a fellow-creature was the fignal of
battle.
Whe
WHIT
li
TH
The deſire of laying the foundation of a favourite
ſyſtem, or a fond expectation, perhaps, that we may be
able to penetrate the ſecrets of nature, to the very ſource
of exiſtence, have, on this ſubject, led to many fruitleſs
inquiries, and given riſe to many wild ſuppoſitions. Among
the various qualities which mankind poſſeſs, we ſelect one or
a few particulars on which to eſtabliſh a theory, and in fram-
ing our account of what man was in ſome imaginary ſtate
of nature, we overlook what he has always appeared withi-
in the reach of our own obſervation, and in the records
of hiſtory.
ul
2014
꽃
​11
In every other inſtance, however, the natural hiſtorian
thinks himſelf obliged to collect facts, not to offer. con-
jectures. When he treats of any particular ſpecies of ani-
mals, hë fuppoſes, that their preſent diſpoſitions and in-
ſtincts are the ſame which they originally had, and that
their preſent manner of life is a continuance of their firſt
deſtination. He admits, that his knowledge of the mate-
rial ſyſtem of the world confifts in a collection of facts, or
át moſt, in general tenets derived from particular obſerva-
tions and experiments. It is only in what relates to him-
ſelf, and in inatters the moſt important, and the moſt eaſily
A 2
known
X
23
LI
1
"L
|
,
,H1
1
F
"
5
Վոեւ
1
2
MA
4
Of the queſtions relating to
Part 1
1
LU
known, that he ſubſtitutes hypotheſis inſtead of reality, and
confounds the provinces of imagination and rcafon, of poetry.
and ſcience.
WH
.
IH
.
.
DI
1
ple
But without cntering any fartirer on queſtions either
in moral or phyſical ſubjects, relating to the manner or
to the origin of our knowledge ; without any diſparage-.
ment to that ſubtilty which would analyze every ſentiment,
and 'trace every mode of being to its ſource; it may be:
ſafely affirmed, That the character of man, as he now .
exiſts, that the laws of this animal and intellectual fyftem,
on which his happineſs now depends, deſerve our princ
cipal ſtudy ; and that general principles relating to this, or
any other ſubject, are only uſeful fo får as they are founded:
on juft obſervation, and lead to the knowledge of impor-
tant conſequences, or fo far as they enable us to: act with:
ſucceſs when we would apply, either, the intellectual or
the phyſical powers of nature, to the purpoſes of human, ,
life.
+
.
1
If both the earlieſt and the lateſt accounts collected from
every quarter of the earth, repreſent mankind as affem-
bled in troops and companies; and the individual always
joined by affection to one party, while he is poſſibly op-
poſed to another; employed in the exerciſe of recollection
and foreſight; inclined to communicate his own ſentiments,
and to be made acquainted with thoſe of others ; theſe facts
muſt be admitted as the foundation of all our reaſoning re-:
lative to man. His mixed diſpoſition to friendſhip or enmity,
his reaſon, his uſe of language and articulate founds, like
the
"
E
w
.
why
N
1
en primer
7
गो
l'hi
ih
11
Hich
:
.
+
IM
Sect..,
the State of Nature.
5.
14,1
the ſhape and the erect poſition of his body, are to be
conſidered as ſo many attributes of his nature: they are
to be retained in his deſcription, as the wing and paw
are in that of the eagle and the lion, and as different de-
grees of fierceneſs, vigilance, timidity, or ſpeed, are made
to occupy, a place in the natural hiſtory of different ani-
mals.
4
,'.
1,
AI
.
opet
+
1
Ie. the queſtion be put, What the mind of man could per-
form, when left to itſelf, and without the aid of any fo-.
reign direction ? we are to look for our anſwer in the hiſtory
of mankind. Particular experiments which have been found
ſo uſeful in eſtabliſhing the principles of other ſciences,
could probably, on this ſubject, teach us nothing impor-
tant, or new.. we are to take the hiſtory of every active be-
ing from his conduct in the ſituation to which he is formed,
not from his appearance in any forced or uncommon condi-
tion; a wild man therefore, caught in the woods, where
he had always lived apart from his ſpecies, is a ſingular in-
ſtance, not a ſpecimen;of any general character. As the ana-
tomy of an eye which has never received the impreſſions of
light, or that of an ear which never felt the impulſe of ſounds,
would probably exhibit defects in the very ſtructure of the
organs themſelves, ariſing from their not being applied to
their proper functions ; fo any particular caſe of this fort
would only ſhew in what degree the powers of apprehenfion
and ſentiment could exiſt where they had not been em-
ployed, and what would be the defects and imbecilities
of a heart in which the emotions that pertain to fociety
lad never been felt.
MANKIND
1
5
4
1
we
41
1
WHAT
M'
F
4
Hey
*
the
M
I
WE
HIN
w
P
ik
ih
4
1
+
h!
:24
w/144
6
Of the queſtion relating to
Part I.
MANKIND are to be taken in groupes, as they have
always fubfifted. The hiſtory of the individual is but a
detail of the ſentiments and thoughts he has entertained
in the view of his fpecies : and every 'experiment relative
to this ſubject ſhould be made with entire ſocieties, 'nor
with ſingle men. We have every reaſon, however, to be-
lieve, that in the caſe of ſuch an experiment made, we ſhall
ſuppoſe, with a colony of children tranſplanted from the
nurſery, and left to form a ſociety apart, untaught, and
undiſciplined, we ſhould only have the ſame things repeat-
ed, which in ſo many different parts of the earth, have
been tranſacted already. The members of our little fociety
would feed and ſleep, would herd together and play, would
have a language of their own, would quarrel and di-
vide, would be to one another the moſt important ob-
jects of the ſcene, and, in the ardour of their friendſhips
and competitions, would' overlook their perſonal dan-
ger, and ſuſpend the care of their ſelf-preſervation. Has
not the human race been planted like the colony in quef-
tion? Who has directed their courſe whoſe inſtruic-
tion have they heard? or whoſe example have they fol-
lowed?
.
#
7:14!
IBA
1
1
HM
NATURE, therefore, we ſhall preſume, having given to
every animal its mode of exiſtence, its diſpoſitions and man-
ner of life, has dealt equally with thoſe of the human race;
and the natural hiſtorian who would collect the properties
of this ſpecies, may fill up every article now, as well as he
could have done in any former age. Yet one property by
which mãn is diſtinguiſhed, has been ſometimes overlooked
in
* کی
WM
HRM
$
+
}
Ł
11
4)
"ATI
...'
1
Sect. I.
the State of Nature.
7
+
H
.
CI
in the account of his nature, or has only ſerved to miſlead
our attention. In other claſſes of animals, the individual
advances from infancy to age or maturity; and he attains,
in the compaſs of a ſingle life, to all the perfection his na-
ture can reach: but; in the human kind, the ſpecies has a
progreſs as well as the individual; they build in every ſub-
ſequent age on foundations formerly laid ; and, in a fuc-
ceſſion of years, tend to a perfection in the application of
their faculties, to whicli the aid of long experience is re-
quired, and to which many generations muſt have. com-
bined their endeavours. We obſerve the progreſs they have
made; we diſtinctly enumerate many of its- ſteps ; we can
trace them back to a diſtant antiquity; of which no record
remains, nor any monument is preſerved, to inform us what
were the openings of this wonderful ſcene. The conſe-
quence is, that inſtead of attending to the character of our
fpecies, where the particulars are vouched by the ſureſt:-
authority, we endeavour to trace: it through ages and ſcenes
unknown; and, inſtead of ſuppoſing that the beginning of.
our ſtory was nearly of a piece with the ſequel, we think
ourſelves warranted to reject ëvery circumſtance of our pre-
ſent "condition and frame, as adventitious and foreign to,
our nature. The progreſs of mankind from: a ſuppoſed :
ſtate of animal ſenſibility, to the attainment of reaſon, to:
the uſe of language, and to the habit of ſociety, has been
accordingly painted with a force of imagination, and its
iteps have been marked with a boldneſs of invention, that:
would çempt us to admit; among the materials of hiſ--
1
berita
1
11
1
41
1
412
tory,
11
Hoe
W
1
.
2
ki
Q
.
lih
HI
4
11
8
Of the queſtion relating to
Part I.
tory, the ſuggeſtions of fancy, and to receive, perhaps,
.as the model of our nature in its original ſtate, ſome of
the animals, whoſe ſhape has the greateſt reſemblance to
Mi
ours *
IM
It would be ridiculous to affirm, as a diſcovery, that
the fpecies of the horſe was probably never the ſame with
that of the lion; yet, in oppoſition to what has dropped
from the pens of eminent writers, we are obliged to obſerve,
that men have always appeared among animals a diſtinct
and a+ ſuperior race ; that neither the poffeffion of ſimilar
organs, nor the approximation of ſhape, nor the uſe of the
handit, nor the continued intercourſe with this ſovereign
artiſt, has enabled any other ſpecies to blend their nature
or their inventions with his ; that in his rudeſt ſtate, he.is
found to be above them; and in his greateſt degeneracy, ne-
• ver deſcends to their level. He is, in ſhort, a man in every
condition ; and we can learn nothing of his nature from the
analogy of other animals. If we would know him, we
muſt attend to himſelf, to the courſe of his life, and the
tenor of his conduct. With him the ſociety appears to be as
old as the individual, and the uſe of the tongue as univer-
fal as that of the hand or the foot. If there was a time
in which he had his acquaintance with his own ſpecies to
make, and his faculties to acquire, it is a time of which we
14
NE
L.
}
+
med
A
*
* Roufiau ſur l'origine de l'inegalité parmi les hommes,
+ Traité de l'eſprit.
5
have
Sect. 1.
the State of Nature.
9
have no record, and in relation to which our opinions can
ferve no purpoſe, and are ſupported by no evidence.
We are often tempted into theſe boundleſs regions of
ignorance or conjecture, by a fancy which delights in creat-
ing rather than in merely retaining the forms which are
preſented before it: we are the dupes of a ſubtilty, which
promiſes to ſupply every defect of our knowledge, and, by
filling up a few blanks in the ſtory of nature, pretends to
conduct our apprehenſion nearer to the ſource of exiſtence.
On the credit of a few obſervations we are apt to prefume,
that the ſecret may ſoon be laid open, and that what is
termed wiſdom in nature, may be referred to the opera-
tion of phyſical powers. We forget that phyſical powers,
employed in ſucceſſion or together, and combined to a fa-
lutary purpoſe, conſtitute thoſe very proofs of deſign
from which we infer the exiſtence of God, and that this,
truth being once admitted, we are no longer to ſearch for
the ſource of exiſtence; we can only collect the laws
which the author of nature has eſtabliſhed; and in our
lateſt as well as our earlieſt diſcoveries, only perceive a
mode of creation or providence before unknown.
1
win
We ſpeak of art as diſtinguiſhed from nature ; but art
itſelf is natural to man. He is in ſome meaſure the arti-
ficer of his own frame, as well as of his fortune, and
is deſtined, from the firſt age of his being, to invent
and contrive. He applies the ſame talents to a variety of
purpoſes, and acts nearly the ſame part in very different
ſcenes.
B
10
1
1
IO
Part I
Of the queſtion relating to
-
1
É
ſcenes. He would be always improving on his ſubject,
and he carries this intention where-ever he moves, through
the ſtreets of this populous city, or the wilds of the fo.
reft. While he appears equally fitted to every condition, he
is
upon this account unable to ſettle in any. At once ob-
flinate and fickle, he complains of innovations, and is never
fated with novelty. He is perpetually buſied in reformations,
and is continually wedded to liis crrors. If he dwell in a
cave, he would improve it into a cottage ; if he has already
built, he would ſtill build to a greater extent. But he does
not propoſe to make rapid and haſty tranſitions ; his ſteps
are progreſſive and flow; and his force, like the power
of a ſpring, filently preſſes on every reſiſtance; an effect is
ſometimes produced before the cauſe is perceived; and with
all his talent for projects, his work is often accompliſhed
before the plan is deviſed. It appears, perhaps, equally diffi-
cult to retard or to qụicken his pace; if the projector com-
plain he is tardy, the moralift thinks him unſtable; and
whether his motions be rapid or ſlow, the ſcenes of human
affairs perpetually change in 'his management: his em-
blem is a paſſing ſtream, not a ſtagnating pool. We may
deſire to direct his love of improvement to its proper object,
we may wiſh for ftability of conduct; but we miſtake hu-
man nature, if we with for a termination of labour, or a
fcene of repoſe.
-
1
The occupations of men, in every condition, beſpeak
their freedom of choice, their various opinions, and the
multiplicity of wants by which they are urged: but they
enjoy,
5
i
II
1
Sect. I.
the State of Nature.
enjoy, or endure, with a ſenſibility, or a phlegm, whiclı
are nearly the ſame in every ſituation. They poſſeſs the
ſhores of the Caſpian, or the Atlantic, by a different tenure,
but with equal eaſe. . On the one they are fixed to the
foil, and ſeem to be formed for ſettlement, and the ac-
commodation of cities : The names they beſtow on a nation,
and on its territory, are the ſame. On the other they are
mere animals of paſſage, prepared to idam on the face
of the earth, and with their herds, in ſearch of new paf-
ture and favourable ſeaſons, to follow the ſun in his annual
courſe.
1
+
1
$
Man finds his lodgment alike in the cave, the cottage,
,
and the palace ; and his ſubſiſtence equally in the woods,
in the dairy, or the farm. He aſſumes the diſtinction of
titles, equipage, and dreſs; he deviſes regular ſyſtems of
government, and a complicated body of laws: or, naked
in the woods, has no badge of ſuperiority but the ſtrength
of his limbs and the fagacity of his mind; no rule of
conduct but choice ; no tie with his fellow-creatures but
affection, the love of company, and the deſire of ſafety.
Capable of a great variety of arts, yet dependent on none
in particular for the preſervation of his being; to what-
ever length he has carried his artifice, there he ſeems to
enjoy the conveniencies that ſuit his nature, and to have
found the condition to which he is deſtined. The trec
which an American, on the banks of the Oroonoko *, has
choſen to climb for the retreat, and the lodgement of his
family, is to him a convenient dwelling. The ſopha, the
1
* Lafitau mueurs des ſauvages,
B 2
vaulteil
2
12
Part I.
Of the queſtion relating to
vaulted dome, and the colonade, do not more effectually
content their native inhabitant.
If we are aſked therefore, Where the ſtate of nature
is to be found? we may anſwer, It is here ; and it matters
not whether we are underſtood to ſpeak in the iſland of
Great Britain, at the Cape of Good Hope, or the Straits of
Magellan. While this active being is in the train of
employing his talents, and of operating on the ſubjects
around him, all ſituations are equally natural. If we are
told, That vice, at leaſt, is contrary to nature ; we may an-
fwer, It is worſe ; it is folly and wretchedneſs. But if na-
ture is only oppoſed to art, in what ſituation of the hu-
man race are the footſteps of art unknown? In the con-
dition of the favage, as well as in that of the citizen,
are many proofs of human invention; and in either is
not any permanent ſtation, but a mere ſtage through which
this travelling being is deſtined to paſs. If the palace be
unnatural, the cottage is ſo no leſs; and the higheſt refine-
ments of political and moral apprehenſion, are not more ar-
tificial in their kind, than the firſt operations of ſentiment
and reaſon.
Ir we admit that man is ſuſceptible of improvement,
and has in himſelf a principle of progreſſion, and a deſire
of perfection, it appears improper to ſay, that he has
quitted the ſtate of his nature, when he has begun to
proceed; or that he finds a ſtation for which he was not
intended, while, like other animals, he only follows the
difpofition,
3
Sect. i.
the State of Nature.
13
diſpoſition, and employs the powers that nature
given.
has
I
The lateſt efforts of human invention are but a con-
tinuation of certain devices which were practiſed in the
earlieſt ages of the world, and in the rudeſt ſtate of man-
kind. What the ſavage projects, or obſerves, in the foreſt,
are the ſteps which led nations, more advanced, from the
architecture of the cottage to that of the palace, and con-
ducted the human mind from the perceptions of ſenſe, to
the general concluſions of ſcience.
ACKNOWLedged defects are to man in every condition
matter of diſlike. Ignorance and imbecility are objects
of contempt : penetration and conduct give eminence, and
procure eſteem. Whither ſhould his feelings and appre-
henſions on theſe ſubjects lead him? To a progreſs, no
doubt, in which the ſavage as well as the philoſopher, is
engaged; in which they have made different advances,
but in which their ends are the ſame. The admiration
which Cicero entertained for literature, eloquence, and
civil accompliſhments, was not more real than that of a
Scythian for ſuch a meaſure of ſimilar endowments as his
own apprehenſion could reach. “ Were I to boaſt,” ſays a
Tartan prince *, " it would be of that wiſdom I have
received from God. For as, on the one hand, I yield to
“ none in the conduct of war, in the diſpoſition of ar-
“ mies, whether of horſe or of foot, and in directing the
* Abulgaze Bahadur Chan. ; Hiſtory of the Tartars.
or
moye
14
Of the queſtion relating to Part I.
movements of great or ſmall bodies; ſo, on the other, I
“ have my talent in writing. inferior perhaps only to thoſe
" who inhabit the great cities of Perſia or India. Of other
nations, unknown to me, I do not ſpeak.”
Man may miſtake the object of his purſuit ; he' may
miſapply his induſtry, and miſplace his improvements.. If
under a ſenſe of ſuch poſſible errors, he would find a ſtan-
dard by which to judge of his own proceedings, and arrive
at the beſt ſtate of his nature, he cannot find it perhaps in
the practice of any individual, or of any nation what-
ever ; not even in the ſenſe of the majority, or the prevail-
ing opinion of his kind. He muſt look for it in the beſt
conceptions of his underſtanding, in the beſt movements of
his heart; he muſt thence diſcover what is the perfection
and the happineſs of which he is capable. He will find,
on the ſcrutiny, that the proper ſtate of his nature, taken
in this fenſe, is not a condition from which mankind are
for ever removed, but one to which they may now attain ;
not prior to the exerciſe of their faculties, but procured by
their juſt application.
Of all the terms that we employ in treating of human
affairs, thoſe of natural and unnatural are the leaſt determi-
nate in their meaning. Oppoſed to affectation, froward-
neſs, or any other defect of the temper or character, the
natural is an epithet of praiſe; but employed to ſpecify a
conduct which proceeds from the nature of man, can ſerve
to diſtinguiſh nothing: for all the actions of men are
equally
+
1
+
I
+
1
15
1
Se&. i.
the State of Nature.
equally the reſult of nature. At moſt this language can
only refer to the general and prevailing ſenſe or practice
of mankind; and the purpoſe of every important inquiry
on this ſubject may be ſerved by the uſe of a language
equally familiar and more preciſe. What is juſt, or un-
juſt? What is happy, or wretched, in the manners of men ?
What, in their various ſituations, is favourable or adverſe to
their amiable qualities ? are queſtions to which we may ex-
pect a ſatisfactory anſwer ; and whatever may have been
the original ſtate of our ſpecies, it is of more impor-
tance to know the condition to which we ourſelves ſhould
aſpire, than that which our anceſtors may be ſuppoſed to
have left..
1
+
S
E C T.
II.
1
Of the principles of Self-preſervatiini
!
IT
in human nature there are qualities by which it is di-
ſtinguiſhed from every other part of the animal crea-
tion, this nature itſelf is in different climates and in dif-
ferent ages greatly diverſified. So far as we are able 10
account for this diverſity on principles either, moral cro
phyſical, we perform a taſk of great curioſity or ſignal uti-
lity. It 'appears neceſſary, however, that we attend to the
univerſal qualities of our nature, before we regard its va-
rieties,
1
។
*
1
4
1
1.6
Of the queſtion relating to
Part I.
rieties, or attempt to explain differences conſiſting in the
unequal poſſeſſion or application of diſpofitions and powers
that are in ſome meaſure common to all mankind.
Man, like the other animals, has certain inſtinctive pro-
penſities, which, prior to the perception of pleaſure or pain,
and prior to the experience of what is pernicious or uſeful,
lead him to perform many functions which terminate in
himſelf, or lave a relation to his fellow-creatures. He has
one ſet of diſpoſitions which tend to his animal preſervation,
and to the continuance of his race; another which lead to
fociety, and by inlifting him on the ſide of one tribe or com-
munity, frequently engage him in war and contention
with the reſt of mankind. His powers of diſcernment, or
intellectual faculties, which, under the appellation of rca-
fon, are diſtinguiſhed from the analogous endowments of
other animals, refer to the objects around him, either as
they are ſubjects of mere knowledge, or as they are ſub-
jects of approbation or cenſure. He is formed not only to
know, but likewiſe to admire and to contemn; and theſe
proceedings of his mind have a principal reference to
his own character, and to that of his fellow-creatures, as
being the ſubjects on which he is chiefly concerned to di-
ftinguiſh what is right from what is wrong. He enjoys his
felicity likewiſe on certain fixed and determinate condi-
tions; and either as an individual apart, or as a member
of civil ſociety, muſt take a particular courſe in order to
reap the advantages of his nature. He is, withal, in a
very high degree ſuſceptible of habits ; and can, by for-
bearance
1
Sect. 2.
of Self-preſervation.
17
1
1
bearance or exerciſe, ſo far weaken, confirm, or even di-
verſify his talents, and his difpofitions, as to appear, in a
great meaſure, the arbiter of his own rank in nature, and
the author of all the varieties which are exhibited in the
actual hiſtory of his ſpecies. The univerſal characteriſ-
tics, in the mean time, to which we have now referred,
muft, when we would treat of any part of this hiſtory,
conſtitute the firſt ſubject of our attention ; and they re-
quire not only to be enumerated, but to be diſtinctly con-
fidered.
1
1
The difpofitions which tend to the preſervation of the
individual, while they continue to operate in the man-
ner of inſtinctive deſires, are nearly the ſame in man that
they are in the other animal's : but in him'they are ſooner
or later combined with reflection and foreſight; they give
riſe to his apprehenſions on the ſubject of property, and
make him acquainted with that object of care which he
calls his intereft. Without the inſtincts which teach the
beaver and the ſquirrel, the ant and the bee, to make up
their little hoards for winter, at firſt improvident, and,
where no immediate object of paſſion is near, addicted to
floth, he becomes, in proceſs of time, the great ſtore-
maſter among animals. He finds in a proviſion of wealth,
which he is probably never to employ, an object of his
greateſt ſolicitude, and the principal idol of his mind.
He apprehends a relation between his perſon and his pro-
perty, which renders what he calls his own in a manner
a part of himſelf, a conftituent of his rank, his condition,
and his character, in which, independent of any real en-
с
joyment,
1
1
18
Part I.
Of the principles
1
joyment, he may be fortunate or unhappy; and, inde-
pendent of any perſonal merit, he may be an object of
conſideration or neglect; and in which he may be wounded
and injured, while his perſon is ſafe, and every want of his
nature is completely ſupplied.
ܪ
+
In theſe apprehenſions, while other paſſions only ope-
rate occaſionally, the intereſted find the object of their or-
dinary cares; their motive to the practice of mechanic and
commercial arts; their temptation to treſpaſs on the laws
of juſtice ; and, when extremely corrupted, the price of
their proſtitutions, and the ſtandard of their opinions on
the ſubject of good and of evil. Under this influence, they
would enter, if not reſtrained by the laws of civil ſociety,
on a ſcene of violence or meanneſs, which would exhibit
our ſpecies, by turns, under an aſpect more terrible and
odious, or more vile and contemptible, than that of any
animal which inherits the earth.
ALTHOUGH the conſideration of intereſt is founded on
the experience of animal wants and deſires, its object is
not to gratify any particular appetite, but to ſecure the
means of gratifying all ; and it impoſes frequently a re-
ſtraint on the very deſires from which it aroſe, more pow-
erful and more ſevere than thoſe of religion or duty. It
ariſes from the principles of ſelf-preſervation in the human
frame; but is a corruption, or at leaſt a partial reſult,
of thoſe principles, and is upon many accounts very impro-
perly termed ſelf-love.
Love
Sect. 2.
of Self-preſervation
19
Love is an affection which carries the attention of the
mind beyond itſelf, and is the ſenſe of a relation to ſome
fellow-creature as to its object. Being a complacency and
a continued ſatisfaction in this object, it has, independent of
any external event, and in the midſt of diſappointment and
forrow, pleaſures and triumphs unknown to thoſe who
are guided by mere confiderations of intereſt; in every
change of condition, it continues entirely diſtinct from
the ſentiments which we feel on the ſubject of perſonal
ſucceſs or adverſity. But as the care a man entertains for
his own intereſt, and the attention his affection makes him
to pay to that of another, may have ſimilar effects, the one
on his own fortune, the other on that of his friend, we
confound the principles from which he acts; we ſuppoſe
that they are the ſame in kind, only referred to different
objects; and we not only miſapply the name of love, in
conjunction with felf, but, in a manner tending to degrade
our nature, we limit the aim of this ſuppoſed ſelfiſh affec-
tion to the ſecuring or accumulating the conſtituents of inte-
reſt, or the means of mere animal life,
!
It is ſomewhat remarkable, that notwithſtanding men
value themſelves ſo much on qualities of the mind, on
parts, learning and wit, on courage, generoſity, and ho-
nour, thoſe men are ſtill ſuppoſed to be in the higheſt
degree ſelfiſh or attentive to themſelves, who are moſt
careful of animal life, and who are leaſt mindful of ren-
dering that life an object worthy of care. It will be dif-
ficult, however, to tell why a good underſtanding, a re-
C2
ſolute
1
1
20
Part I.
Of the principles
1.
1
ſolute and generous mind, ſhould not, by every man in his
fenfes, be reckoned as much parts of himſelf, as either
his ſtomach or his palate, and much more than his eſtate
or his dreſs. The epicure, who conſults his phyſician; how
he
may
reſtore his reliſh for food, and by creating an ap-
petite, may increaſe the means of enjoyment, might aë
leaſt with an equal regard to himſelf, conſult how he might
ſtrengthen his affection to a parent or a child, to his coun-
try or to mankind; and it is probable that an appetite of
this ſort would prove a fource of enjoyment not leſs than
the former.
1
1
1
#
9
By our ſuppoſed ſelfiſh maxims, notwithſtanding; we
generally exclude from among the objects of our perſonal
cares, many of the happier and more reſpectable quali-
ties of human nature. We conſider affection and courage
as mere follies, that lead us to neglect or expoſe ourſelves
we make wiſdom confift in a regard to our intereſt; and
without explaining what intereft means, we would have it
underſtood as the only reaſonable motive of action with
mankind. There is even a ſyſtem of philoſophy found-
ed upon tenets of this fort, and ſuch is our opinion of
what men are likely to do upon ſelfiſh principles, that
we think it muſt have a tendency very dangerous to virtue.
But the errors of this ſyſtem do not conſiſt ſo much in
general principles, as in the particular applications ; not ſo
much in teaching men to regard themſelves, as in leading
them to forget that their happieſt affections, their candour,and
'their independence of mind, are in reality parts of them-
ſelves.
1
t
21
Sect. 2. of Self-preſervation.
felves. And the adverſaries of this ſuppoſed ſelfiſh phi-
loſophy, where it makes ſelf-love the ruling paſſion with
mankind, have had reaſon to find fault, not ſo much with
its general repreſentations of human nature, as with the
obtruſion of a mere innovation in language for a diſcovery
in ſcience.
.
4
A
When the vulgar ſpeak of their different motives, they
are ſatisfied with ordinary names, which refer to known
and obvious diſtinctions. Of this kind are the terms be-
nevolence and ſelfiſhneſs, by the firſt of which they expreſs
their friendly affections, and by the ſecond their intereſt.
The fpeculative are not always ſatisfied with this proceed-
ing; they would analyze, as well as enumerate the prin-
ciples of nature; and the chance is, that, merely to gain
the appearance of ſomething new, without any proſpect
of real advantage, they will attempt to change the ap-
plication of words. In the caſe before us, they have ac-
tually found, that benevolence is no more than a fpe-
cies of ſelf-love ; and would oblige us, if poſſible, to look
out for a new ſet of names, by which we may diſtinguiſh
the ſelfiſhneſs of the parent when he takes care of his
child, from his ſelfiſhneſs when he only takes care of
himſelf. For according to this philoſophy, as in both
caſes he only means to gratify a deſire of his own, he is
in both caſes equally ſelfiſh. The term benevolent, in the
mean time, is not employed to characteriſe perſons who
have no deſires of their own, but perſons whoſe own de-
fires prompt them to procure the welfare of others. The
fact
1
1
1
22
Part I.
Of the principles
L
fact is, that we ſhould need only a freſh ſupply of lan-
guage, inſtead of that which by this ſeeming diſcovery
we ſhould have loſt, in order to make our reaſonings pro-
ceed as they formerly did. But it is certainly impoſſible
to live and to act with men, without employing different
names to diſtinguiſh the humane from the cruel, and the
benevolent from the ſelfiſh.
These terms have their equivalents in every tongue;
they were invented by men of no refinement, who only
meant to expreſs what they diſtinctly perceived or ſtrong-
ly felt. And if a man of ſpeculation ſhould prove that we
are ſelfiſh in a ſenſe of his own, it does not follow that
we are ſo in the ſenſe of the vulgar; or, as ordinary
men would underſtand his concluſion, that we are con-
demned in every inſtance to act on motives of intereſt, co-
vetouſneſs, pufillanimity, and cowardice ; for ſuch is con-
ceived to be the ordinary import of ſelfiſhneſs in the cha-
racter of man.
An affection or paſſion of any kind is ſometimes ſaid
to give us an intereſt in its object; and humanity itſelf
gives an intereſt in the welfare of mankind. This term
intereſt, which commonly implie's little more than our pro-
perty, is ſometimes put for utility in general, and this
for happineſs ; inſomuch that, under theſe ambiguities, it
is not ſurpriſing we are ſtill unable to determine, whether
intereſt is the only motive of human action, and the ſtand-
ard by which to diſtinguiſh our good from our ill.
1
1
So
1
23
1
Sect. 2;
of Self-preſervation.
So much is ſaid in this place, not from a deſire to par-
take in any ſuch controverſy, but merely to confine the
meaning of the term intereſt to its moſt common accepta-
tion, and to intimate a deſign to employ it in expreſſing
tlioſe objects of care which refer to our external condition,
and the preſervation of our animal nature. When taken in
this ſenſe, it will not ſurely be thought to comprehend at
once all the motives of human conduct. If men be not
allowed to have diſintereſted benevolence, they will not be
denied to have diſintereſted paſſions of another kind. Ha-
tred, indignation, and rage, frequently urge them to act in
oppoſition to their known intereſt, and even to hazard their
lives, without any hopes of compenſation in any future re
turns of preferment or profit.
F
SE CT.
III.
Of the principles of Union among Mankind.
1
MAN
ANKIND have always wandered or ſettled, agreed
or quarrelled, in troops and companies. The cauſe
of their aſſembling, whatever it be, is the principle of
alliance or union.
+
In collecting the materials of hiſtory, we are feldom
willing to put up with our ſubject merely as we find it.
We are loth to be embarraſſed with a multiplicity of par-
ticulars,
24
Part I.
of the principles of
1
1
1
ticulars, and apparent inconſiſtencies. In theory we pro-
feſs the inveſtigation of general principles; and in order
to bring the matter of our inquiries within the reach of our
comprehenſion, are diſpoſed to adopt any ſyſtem. Thus, in
treating of human affairs, we would draw every conſe-
quence from a principle of union, or a principle of diffen-
fion. The ſtate of nature is a ſtate of war or of amity, and
men are made to unite from a principle of affection, or
from a principle of fear, as is moſt ſuitable to the ſyſtem
of different writers. The hiſtory of our ſpecies indeed abun-
dantly ſhews, that they are to one another mutual objects
both of fear and of lovę; and they who would prove them
to have been originally either in a ſtate of alliance, or of war,
have arguments in ſtore to maintain their aſſertions. Our
attachment to one diviſion, or to one ſect, ſeems often to
derive much of its force from an animoſity conceived to an
oppoſite one: and this animoſity in its turn, as often ariſes
from a zeal in behalf of the ſide we eſpouſe, and from a
deſire to vindicate the rights of our party.
66 and
។
“ Man is born in ſociety," ſays Monteſquieu,
“ there he remains.” The charms that detain him are known
to be manifold. Together with the parental affection,
which, inſtead of deſerting the adult, as among the brutes,
embraces more cloſe, as it becomes mixed with eſteem,
and the memory of its early effects ; we may reckon a
propenſity common to man and other animals, to mix with
the herd, and, without reflection, to follow the croud of
his ſpecies. What this propenſity was in the firſt mo-
.
ment
8
+
Sect. 3.
2
25
Union among Mankind.
ment of its operation, we know not; but with men accuf-
tomed to company, its enjoyments and diſappointments are
reckoned among the principal pleaſures or pains of human
life. Sadneſs and melancholy are connected with foli-
tude; gladneſs and pleaſure with the concourſe of men.
The track of a Laplander on the ſnowy ſhore, gives joy to
the lonely mariner; and the mute ſigns of cordiality and
kindneſs which are made to him, awaken the memory
of pleaſures which he felt in ſociety. In fine, ſays a writer
of a voyage to the north, after deſcribing a mute ſcene of
this fort, “ We were extremely pleaſed to converſe with
men, ſince in thirteen months we had ſeen no human
creature *." But we need no remote obſervation to con-
firm this poſition: The wailings of the infant, and the lan-
guors of the adult, when alone ; the lively joys of the one,
and the clearfulneſs of the other, upon the return of
company, are a ſufficient proof of its ſolid foundations in
the frame of our nature,
.
In accounting for actions we often forget that we our-
felves have acted; and inſtead of the ſentiments which
ſtimulate the mind in the preſence of its object, we af-
fign as the motives of conduct with men, thoſe conſide-
rations which occur in the hours of retirement and cold
reflection. In this mood frequently we can find nothing.
important, beſides the deliberate proſpects of intereſt; and
a great work, like that of forming ſociety, muít in our
* Collection of Dutch voyages.
D
appre-
26
Part I.
of the principles of
4
1
apprehenſion ariſe from deep reflections, and be carried
on with a view to the advantages which mankind de-
rive from commerce and mutual ſupport. But neither
a propenſity to mix with the herd, nor the ſenſe of ad-
vantages enjoyed in that condition, comprehend all -the
principles by which men are united together. Thoſe bands
are even of a feeble texture, when compared to the re-
folute ardour with which a man adheres to his friend, or
to his tribe, after they have for ſome time run the ca-
reer of fortune together. Mutual diſcoveries of generoſity,
joint trials of fortitude, redouble the ardours of friend-
ſhip, and kindle a flame in the human breaſt, which the
conſiderations of perſonal intereſt or ſafety cannot ſup-
preſs. The moſt lively tranſports of joy are ſeen, and the
Toudeſt ſkricks of deſpair are heard, when the objects of
a tender affection are beheld in a ſtate of triumph or of
ſuffering. An Indian recovered his friend unexpectedly
on the iſland of Juan Fernandes: He proſtrated himſelf
on the ground, at his feet : “ We ſtood gazing in filence,'
ſays Dampier, at this tender ſcene.” If we would know
what is the religion of a wild American, what it is in his
heart that moſt reſembles devotion: it is not his fear of
the forcerer, nor liis hope of protection from the ſpirits of
the air or the wood; it is the ardent affection with which
lie ſelects and embraces lris friend ; with which he clings.
to his fide in every ſeaſon of peril; and with which lie in-,
vokes his fpirit from a diſtance, when dangers ſurprize him:
alone * Whatever proofs we may have of the ſocial dif-
1
1
* Charlevoix ; Hift. of Canada:
1
poſition
1
Sect. 3.
1
Union among Mankind.
27
poſition of man in familiar and contiguous ſcenes, it is
poflibly of importance, to draw our obſervations from the
examples of men who live in the ſimpleſt condition, and
who have not learned to affect what they do not actually
feel.
Mere acquaintance and habitude nouriſh affection, and
the experience of ſociety brings every paſſion of the hu-
man mind upon its ſide. Its triumphs and proſperities,
its -calamities and diſtreſſes, bring a variety and a force
of emotion, which can only have place in the company of
our fellow-creatures. It is here that a man is made to
forget his weakneſs, his cares of ſafety, and his ſubſiſ-
tence; and to act from thoſe paflions which make him dif-
cover his force. It is here he finds that his arrows fly ſwifter
than the eagle, and his weapons wound deeper than the
paw of the lion, or the tooth of the boar. It is not alone his
ſenſe of a ſupport which is near, nor the love of diſtinction
in the opinion of his tribe, that inſpire his courage, or ſwell
his heart with a confidence that exceeds what his natu-
ral force ſhould beſtow. Vehement paſſions of animoſity
or attachment are the firſt exertions of vigour in his breaſt;
under their influence, every confideration, but that of his
object is forgotten ; dangers and difficulties only excite him,
the more.
"That condition is ſurely favourable to the nature of
any being, in which his force is increaſed; and if courage
be the gift of ſociety to man, we have reaſon to conſider
his union with his fpecies as the nobleſt part of his for-
D 2
tune.
1
1
28
Part I.
Of the principles of
A
tune. From this ſource are derived, not only the force,
but the very exiſtence of his happieſt emotions ; not only
the better part, but almoſt the whole of his rational cha-
racter. Send him to the deſert alone, he is a plant torn
from its roots: the form indeed may remain, but every
faculty droops and withers; the human perſonage and the
human character ceaſe to exiſt.
Men are ſo far from valuing ſociety on account of its
mere external conveniencies, that they are commonly moſt
attached where thoſe conveniencies are leaſt frequent; and
are there moſt faithful, where the tribute of their allegi-
ance is paid in blood. Affection operates with the greateſt
force, where it meets with the greateſt difficulties: In the
breaſt of the parent, it is moſt ſolicitous amidſt the dan,
gers and diſtreſſes of the child : In the breaſt of a man, its
flame redoubles where the wrongs or ſufferings of his
friend, or his country, require his aid. It is, in ſhort, from
this principle alone that we can account for the obſtinate
attachment of a ſavage to his unſettled and defenceleſs
tribe, when temptations on the ſide of eaſe and of fafe-
ty might induce him to fly from famine and danger, to
a ſtation more affluent, and more ſecure. Hence the
ſanguine afſection which every Greck bore to his coun-
try, and hence the devoted patriotiſm of an early Ro-
Let thoſe examples be compared with the ſpirit
which reigns in a commercial ſtate, where men may be
ſuppoícd to have experienced, in its full extent, the in-
tereſt which individuals have in the preſervation of their
7
country.
inan.
Sect. 3
«
Union among -Marskind.
29
country. It is here indeed, if ever, that man is ſometimes
found a detached and a ſolitary being: he has found an ob-
ject which fets him in competition with his fellow-creatures,
and he deals with them as he does with his cattle and his
ſoil, for the ſake of the profits they bring. The mighty
engine which we ſuppoſe to have formed ſociety, only
tends to ſet its members at variance, or to continue their
intercourſe after the bands of affcction are broken..
+
.
S E C T.
IV:
Of the principles of War and Dilſenfion.
THE
HERE are fome circumſtances in the lot of man-
kind,” ſays Socrates, “ that ſhew them to be de-
“ ſtined to friendſhip and amity: Thoſe are, their mutual
56 need of each other; thcir mutual compaſſion ;. their
« ſenſe of mutual benefits; and the pleaſures ariſing in:
company. There are other circumſtances which
" them to war and diſſenſion; the admiration and the.
« deſire which they entertain for the ſame ſubjects; their
oppoſite pretenfions; and tlie, provocations which they
mutually offer in the courſe of their competitions.”
prompt
When we endeavour to apply the maxims of natural
juſtice to the ſolution of difficult queſtions, we find that.
ſome caſes may be fuppoſed, and actually happen, where:
oppofitions-
1
30
Of the principles of
Part I.
oppoſitions take place, and are lawful, prior to aný provo-
cation, or act of injuſtice ; that where the ſafety and pre-
ſervation of numbers are mutually inconſiſtent, one party
may employ his right of defence, before the other has
begun an attack. And when we join with ſuch examples,
the inítances of miſtake, and miſunderſtanding, to which
mankind are expoſed, we may be ſatisfied that war does
not always proceed from an intention to injure ; and that
even the beſt qualities' of men, their candour, as well
as their reſolution, may operate in the midſt of their
quarrels.
1
+
1
.
i
2
There is ſtill more to be obſerved on this ſubject. Man-
kind not only find in their condition the ſources of vari-
ance and diſſenſion ; they appear to have in their minds
the feeds of animoſity, and to embrace the occaſions of
mutual oppoſition, with alacrity and pleaſure. In the next
pacific ſituation there are few who have not their enemies,
as well as their friends; and who are not pleaſed with op-
poſing the proceedings of one, as much as with favouring
the deſigns of another. Small and ſimple tribes, who in
their domeſtic ſociety have the firmeſt union, are in their
ftate of oppoſition as ſeparate nations, frequently animated
with the moſt implacable hatred. Among the citizens of
Rome, in the early ages of that republic, the name of a fo-
reigner, and that of an enemy, were the ſame. Among
the Greeks, the name of Barbarian, under which that peo-
ple comprehended every nation that was of a race, and
ſpoke a language, different from their own, became a term
of
1
Sect. 4.
War and Diſſenſion.
31
of indiſcriminate contempt and averſion. Even where no par-
ticular claim to ſuperiority is formed, the repugnance to
union, the frequent wars, or rather the perpetual hoſtilities,
which take place among rude nations and ſeparate clans,
diſcover how much our fpecies is diſpoſed to oppoſition, as
well as to concert.
Late diſcoveries have brought us to the knowledge of
almoſt every ſituation in which mankind are placed. We have
found them ſpread over large and extenſive continents, where
communications are open, and where national confederacy
might be eaſily formed. We have found them in nar-
rower diſtricts, circumſcribed by mountains, great rivers,
and arms of the ſea. They have been found in ſmall iſlands,
where the inhabitants might be eaſily aſſembled, and de-
rive an advantage from their union. But in all thoſe ſitu-
ations, alike, they were broke into cantons, and affected a
diſtinction of name and community. The titles of fellow-
citizen and countryman, unoppoſed to thoſe of alien and for
reigner, to which they refer, would fall into diſuſe, and loſe
their meaning. We love individuals on account of per-
fonal qualities ; but we love our country, as it is a party
in
the diviſions of mankind; and our zeal for its intereſt, is a
predilection in behalf of the ſide we maintain.
!
1
In the promiſcuous concourſe of men, it is ſufficient
that we have an opportunity of ſelecting our company.
We turn away from thoſe who do not engage us, and we
fix our reſort where the ſociety is more to, our mind. We
are
4
he
!
1
32
Of the principles of
Part I.
are fond of diſtinctions; we place ourſelves in oppoſition,
and quarrel under the denominations of faction and party,
without any material ſubject of controverſy. Averſion, like
affection, is foſtered by a continued direction to its particu-
lar object. Separation and eſtrangement, as well as oppoſi-
tion, widen a breach which did not owe its beginnings to any
offence. And it would ſeem, that till we have reduced man-
kind to the ſtate of a family, or found ſome external confi-
deration to maintain their connection in greater numbers,
they will be for ever ſeparated into bands, and form a plu-
rality of nations.
1
I
1
1
!
The ſenſe of a common danger, and the aſſaults of
an enemy, have been frequently uſeful to nations, by
uniting their members more firmly together, and by pre-
venting the ſeceſſions and actual ſeparations in which their
civil diſcord: might otherwiſe terminate. All tliis - mo-
tive to union which is offered from abroad, may be ne-
ceſſary, not only in the caſe of large and extenſive na-
tions, where coalitions are weakened : by diſtance, and the
diſtinction of provincial names; but even in tlie narrow :
fociety of the finalleſt ſtates: Rome itſelf was founded
by a ſinall party, which took its flight from Alba; her
citizens were often in danger of ſeparating; and if the
villages and cantons of the Volſci had been further re-
moved from the ſcene of their diffenfions, the-Mons Sa-
cer might have received a new colony before the mother-
country was ripe for ſuch a diſcharge. She continued
long
+
ir
--
L
1
1
1
Sect. 4
War and Diſſenfion.
33
long to feel the quarrels of her nobles and her people ;
and the gates of Janus were frequently opened, to re-
mind her inliabitants of the duties they owed to their
country.
If ſocieties, as well as individuals, be charged with the
care of their own preſervation, and if in both we appre-
hend a ſeparation of intereſt, which may give riſe to jea-
louſies and competitions, we cannot be ſurpriſed to find
hoftilities ariſe from this ſource. But were there no an-
gry paſſions of a different fort, the animoſities which at-
tend an oppoſition of intereſt, ſhould bear a proportion
to the ſuppoſed value of the ſubject.
" The Hottentot na-
s tions,” ſays Kolben, “ treſpaſs on each other by thefts
“ of cattle and of women ; but ſuch injuries are ſeldom
“ committed, except with a view to exaſperate their neigh-
« bours, and bring them to a war.” Such depredations
then are not the foundation of a war, but the effects of a
hoftile intention already conceived. The nations of North
America, who have no herds to preſerve, nor ſettlements
to defend, are yet engaged in almoſt perpetual wars, for
which they can aſſign no reaſon, but the point of ho-
nour, and a deſire to continue the ſtruggle their fathers
maintained. They do not regard the ſpoils of an enemy;
and the warrior who has ſeized any booty, caſily parts with
it to the firſt perſon who comes in his way
h
.
* See Charlevoix's hiſtory of Canada.
1
E
BUT
-
!!
1
3-4
Of the principles of
Part I.
But we need not croſs the Atlantic to find proofs of ani-
moſity, and to obſerve, in the colliſion of ſeparate ſocieties,
the influence of angry paſſions, that do not ariſe from
an oppoſition of intereſt. Human nature has part of its
character, of which more flagrant examples are given on
this ſide of the globe. Wliat is it that ſtirs in the breaſts of
ordinary men when the enemies of their country are
named ? Whence are the prejudices that ſubſiſt between dif-
ferent provinces, cantons, and villages, of the fame empire
and territory? What is it that excites one half of the nations
of Europe againſt the other? The ſtateſman may explain his
conduct on motives of national jealouſy and caution, but the
people have diſlikes and antipathies, for which they cannot
account. 'Their mutual reproaches of perfidy and injuſtice,
like the Hottentot depredations, are but ſymptoms of an
animoſity, and the language of a hoſtile diſpoſition, al-
ready conceived. The charge of cowardice and pufillani-
mity, qualities which the intereſted and cautious enemy
ſhould, of all others, like beſt to find in his rival, is urged
with averſion, and made the ground of diſlike. · Hear the
peaſants on different ſides of the Alps, and the Pyrenees,
the Rhine, or the Britiſh channel, give vent to their preju-
dices and national paſſions; it is among them that we find
the materials of war and diſſenſion laid without the direc-
tion of government, and ſparks ready to kindle into a
flame, which the ſtateſman is frequently diſpoſed to extin-
guiſh. The fire will not always catch where his reaſons of
ſtate would direct, nor ſtop where the concurrence of in-
tereft has produced an alliance. My father,” ſaid a
Spaniſh peaſant, “ would riſe from his grave, if he could
66 forefee
1
.
1
Sect. 4:
War and Diſſenfion.
35
“ foreſee a war with France.” What intereſt had he, op
the bones of his father, in the quarrels of princes?
These obſervations ſeem to arraign our ſpecies, and
to give an unfavourable picture of mankind; and yet the
particulars we have mentioned are conſiſtent with the moſt
amiable qualities of our nature, and often furniſh a ſcene
for the exerciſe of the greateſt abilities. They are ſenti-
ments of generoſity and ſelf-denial that animate the warrior
in defence of his country; and they are diſpoſitions moſt
favourable to mankind, thạt become the principles of ap-
parent hoftility to men. Every animal is made to delight
in the exerciſe of his natural talents and forces: The lion
and the tyger ſport with the paw; the horſe delights to
commit his mane to the wind, and forgets his paſture to
try his ſpeed in the field; the bull even before his brow is
armed, and the lamb while yet an emblem of innocence,
have a diſpoſition to ſtrike with the forehead, and antici-
pate, in play, the conflicts they are doomed to ſuſtain.
Man too is diſpoſed to oppoſition, and to employ the forces
of his nature againſt an equal antagoniſt ; he loves to bring
his' reaſon, his eloquence, his courage, even his bodily
ſtrength, to the proof. His ſports are frequently an image
of war; ſweat and blood are freely expended in play; and
fractures or death are often made to terminate the paſtimes
of idleneſs and feſtivity. He was not made to live for
ever, and even his love of amuſement has opened a path
that leads to the grave.
I
WITHOUT the rivalſhip of nations, and the practice of
war, civil ſociety itſelf could ſcarcely have found an object,
or a form. Mankind might have traded without any for-
inal
E 2
4
36
Part I.
Of the principles of
mal convention, but they cannot be ſafe without a national
concert. The neceſſity of a public defence, has given riſe:
to many departments of ſtate, and the intellectual talents of
men have found their buſieſt ſcene in wielding their na-
tional forces. To overawe, or intimidate, or, when we
cannot perſuade with rcaſon, to reſiſt with fortitude, are
the occupations which give its moſt animating exer-
ciſe, and its greateſt triumphs, to a vigorous mind ; and he
who has never ſtruggled with his fellow-creatures, is a
ſtranger to half the ſentiments of mankind.
The quarrels of individuals, indeed, are frequently the
operations of unhappy and deteſtable paſſions ; malice,
hatred, and rage. If ſuch paſſions alone poſſeſs the breaſt,
the ſcene of diffenſion becomes an object of horror; but
a common oppoſition maintained by numbers, is always
allayed by paſſions of another fort. Sentiments of affec-
tion and friendſhip mix with animoſity; the active and
ſtrenuous become the guardians of their ſociety; and
violence itſelf is, in their caſe, an exertion of generoſity
as well as of courage. We applaud, as proceeding from
a national or party ſpirit, what we could not endure as
the effect of private diſlike; and amidſt the competitions
of rival ſtates, think we have found, for the patriot and
the warrior, in the practice of violence and ſtratagem, the
moft illuſtrious career of human virtue. Even perſonal
oppoſition here does not divide our judgment on the merits
of men. The rival names of Ageſilaus and Epaminondas,
of Scipio and Hannibal, are repeated with cqual praiſe;
and war itſelf, which in one view appears ſo fatal, in an-
8
other
.
.
-
1
!
Sect. 4o
War and Diffenfion.
37
other is the exerciſe of a liberal ſpirit; and in the very effects :
which we regret, is but one diſtemper more by which the
author of nature lias appointed our exit from human life.
1
1
These reflections may open our view into the ſtate of
mankind; but they tend to reconcile us to the conduct
of Providence, rather than to make us change our own:
where, from a regard to the welfare of our fellow-crea-
tures,
we endeavour to pacify their animoſities, and
unite them by the ties of affection. In the purſuit of this
amiable intention, we may hope, in ſame inſtances, to
diſarin the angry paſſions of jealouſy and envy; we may
hope to inſtil into the breaſts of private men ſentiments
of candour towards their fellow-creatures, and a diſpoſi-
tion to humanity and juſtice. But it is vain to expect
that we can give to the multitude of a people a ſenſe of
union among themſelves, without admitting hoſtility to
· thoſe who oppoſe them. Could we at once, in the caſe of
-any nation, extinguiſh the emulation which is excited
from abroad, we ſhould probably break or weaken the
bands of ſociety at home, and cloſe the buſieſt ſcenes of
national occupations and virtues.
1
1
,
1
1
38
Of Intellectual Powers.
Part I.
3
S E C T.
.V.
À
Of Intelle&tual Powers.
MANY
3
1
ANY attempts have been made to analyze the dif-
poſitions which we have now enumerated ; but
one purpoſe of ſcience, perhaps the moſt important, is
ſerved, when the exiſtence of a diſpoſition is eſtabliſhed.
We are more concerned in its reality, and in its conſequen-
ces, than we are in its origin, or manner of formation.
The ſame obſervation may be applied to the other
powers and faculties of our nature. Their exiſtence and
uſe are the principal objects of our ſtudy. Thinking and
reaſoning, we ſay, are the operations of ſome faculty ;
but in what manner the faculties of thought or reaſon re-
main, when they are not exerted, or by what difference
in the frame they are unequal in different perſons, are
queſtions which we cannot reſolve.
Their operations
alone diſcover them: when unapplied, they lie hid even
from the perſon to whom they pertain ; and their action
is ſo much a part of their nature, that the faculty itſelf,
in many caſes, is ſcarcely to be diſtinguiſhed from a ha-
bir acquired in its frequent exertion.
PERSONS who are occupied with different ſubjects,
who act in different ſcenes, generally appear to have dif-
5
ferent
4
A
A
I
Sect: 5.
Of Intellettual Powers
39
1
1
ferent talents, or at leaſt to have the ſame faculties va-
riouſly formed, and ſuited to different purpoſes. The
peculiar genius of nations, as well as of individuals,
may in this manner ariſe from the ſtate of their fortunes.
And it is proper that we endeavour to find ſome rule, by
which to judge of what is admirable in the capacities of
men, or fortunate in the application of their faculties,
before we venture to paſs a judgement on this branch of
their merits, or pretend to meaſure the degree of reſpect
they may claim by their different attainments.
11
!
1
To receive the informations of ſenſe, is perhaps the
earlieſt function of an animal combined with an intel-
lectual nature ; and one great accompliſhment of the li-
ving agent conſiſts in the force and ſenſibility of his ani-
mal organs. The pleaſures or pains to which he is expo-
fed from this quarter, conſtitute to him an important
difference between the objects which are thus brought to
his knowledge ; and it concerns him to diſtinguiſh well,
before he commits himſelf to the direction of appetite.
He muſt ſcrutinize the objects of one ſenſe by the per-
ceptions of another; examine with the eye, before he
ventures to touch ; and employ every means of obſerva-
tion, before he gratifies the appetites of thirſt and of
hunger. A diſcernment acquired by experience, becomes
a faculty of his mind; and the inferences of thought are
ſometimes not to be diſtinguiſhed from the perceptions
of ſenſe. .
THE
1
į
t
40
Part 1.
Of Intelle&tual Powers.
-
+
The objects around us, beſide their ſeparate appear-
ances, have their relations to one another. They ſuggeſt,
when compared, what would not occur when they are
conſidered apart ; they have their effects, and mutual in-
fluences; they exhibit, in like circumſtances, fimilar
operations, and uniform conſequences. When we have
found and expreſſed the points in which the uniformity
of their operations conſiſts, we have aſcertained a phy-
fical law. Many ſuch laws, and even the moſt impor-
tant, are known to the vulgar, and occur upon the ſmall-
leſt degrees of reflection : but others are hid under a
ſeeming confuſion, which ordinary talents cannot re-
move; and are therefore the objects of ſtudy, long obſer-
vation, and ſuperior capacity. The faculties of penetra-
tion and judgement, are, by men of buſineſs, as well as
of ſcience, employed to unravel intricacies of this fort;
and the degree of fagacity with which either is endow-
ed, is to be meaſured by the ſucceſs with which they are
able to find general rules, applicable to a variety of caſes
that ſeemed to have nothing in common, and to diſcover
important diſtinctions between ſubjects which the vulgar
are apt to confound.
+
To collect a multiplicity of particulars under general
heads, and to refer a variety of operations to their com-
mon principle, is the object of ſcience. To do the ſame
thing, at leaſt within the range of his active::engage-
ments, pertains to the man of pleaſure, or buſineſs :
and“it would ſeem, that the ſtudious and the active are
fo
1
1
.
+
Sect. 5.
Of Intelle@tual Powers.
41
ſo far employed in the ſame taſk, from obſervation and
experience, to find the general views under which their
objects may be conſidered, and the rules which may be
uſefully applied in the detail of their conduct. They do
not always apply their talents to different ſubjects; and
they ſeem to be diſtinguiſhed chiefly by the unequal reach
and variety of their remarks, or by the intentions which
they ſeverally have in collecting them.
Whilst men continue to act from appetites and par-
ſions, leading to the attainment of external ends, they
ſeldom quit the view of their objects in detail, to go far
in the road of general inquiries. They meaſure the ex-
tent of their own abilities, by the promptitude with
which they apprehend what is important in every ſubject,
and the facility with which they extricate themſelves on
every trying occaſion. And theſe, it muſt be confeſſed,
to a being who is deſtined to act in the midſt of difficul-
ties, are the proper teft of capacity and force.
rade of words, and general reaſonings, which ſometimes
carry an appearance of ſo much learning and knowledge,
are of little avail in the conduct of life. The talents
from which they proceed, terminate in mere oftentation,
and are ſeldom connected with that ſuperior diſcernment
which the active apply in times of perplexity; much leſs
with that intrepidity and force of mind which are requi-
red in paſſing through difficult ſcenes.
The pa.
The abilities of active men, however, have a variety
correſponding to that of the ſubjects on which they are
F
occupied.
។
1
42
1
Part I.
Of Intelletual Powers.
occupied. A fagacity applied to external and inanimate
nature, forms one ſpecies of capacity; that which is turn-
ed to ſociety and human affairs, another. Reputation
for parts in any ſcene is equivocal, till we know by what
kind of exertion that reputation is gained. That they un-
derſtand well the ſubjects to which they apply, is all that
can be ſaid, in commending men of the greateſt abilities:
and every department, every profeſſion, would have its
great men, if there were not a choice of objects for the
underſtanding, and of talents for the mind, as well as of
ſentiments for the heart, and of habits for the active cha-
racter.
7
The meaneſt profeſſions, indeed, ſo far ſometimes for-
get themſelves, or the reſt of mankind, as to arrogate,
in commending what is diftinguiſhed in their own way,
every epithet the moſt reſpectable claim as the right of
fuperior abilities. Every mechanic is a great man with
the learner, and the humble admirer, in his particular
calling; and we can, perhaps, with more aſſurance pro-
nounce what it is that ſhould make a man happy and
- amiable, than what ſhould make his abilities reſpected,
and his genius admired. This, upon a view of the ta-
lents themſelves, may perhaps be impoſſible. The effect,
however, will point out the rule and the ſtandard of our
judgement. To be admired and reſpected, is to have an
aſcendent among men.
The talents which moſt directly
procure that aſcendant, are thoſe which operate on man-
kind, penetrate their views, prevent their wiſhes, or fruf-
trate their deſigns. The ſuperior capacity leads with a
8
ſuperior
1
.
*
.
1
TI
Sect. 5:
Of Intelle&tual Powers.
43
ſuperior energy, where every individual would go, and
Thews the heſitating and the irrefolute a clear paſſage to
the attainment of their ends.
f
i
1
This deſcription does not pertain to any particular
craft or profeſſion; or perhaps it implies a kind of ability,
which the ſeparate application of men to particular cal-
lings, only tends to ſuppreſs or to weaken. Where ſhall
we find the talents which are fit to act with men in a
collective body, if we break that body into parts, and
confine the obſervation of each to a ſeparate track?
1
!
with men.
To act in the view of his fellow-creatures, to produce
his mind in public, to give it all the exerciſe of fenti-
ment and thought, which pertain to man as a member
of ſociety, as a friend, or an enemy, ſeems to be the
principal calling and occupation of his nature. If he
muſt labour, that he may fubfift, he can ſubfift for no
better purpoſe than the good of mankind; nor can he
have better talents than thoſe which qualify him to act
Here, indeed, the underſtanding appears to
borrow very much from the paſſions ; and there is a feli,
city of conduct in human affairs, in which it is difficult to
diſtinguiſh the promptitude of the head from the ardour
and ſenſibility of the heart. Where both are united, they
conſtitute that ſuperiority of mind, the frequency of
which among men, in particular ages and nations, much
more than the progreſs they have made in fpeculation,
or in the practice of mechanic and liberal arts, ſhould
F 2
determine
1
។ 1
1
L
44
Part 1.
Of Intelle&tual Powers.
determine the rate of their genius, and aſſign the palm of
diftinction and honour.
.
When nations ſucceed one another in the career of
diſcoveries and inquiries, the laſt is always the moſt
knowing. Syſtems of ſcience are gradually formed. The
globe itſelf is traverſed by degrees, and the hiſtory of
every age, when paſt, is an acceſſion of knowledge to
thoſe who ſucceed. The Romans were more knowing
than the Greeks; and every ſcholar. of modern. Europe
is, in this ſenſe, more learned than the moſt accompliſh-
ed perſon that ever bore either of thoſe celebrated names..
But is he on that account their ſuperior?
;
Men are to be eſtimated, not from what they know,
but from what they are able to perform ; from their ſkill.
in adapting materials to the ſeveral purpoſes of life
from their vigour and conduct in purſuing the objects of
policy, and in finding the expedients of war and national
defence. Even in literature, they are to be eſtimated .
froi the works of their genius, not from the extent. of.
their knowledge. The ſcene of mere obſervation was ex-.
tremely limited in a Grecian republic; and the buſtle of
an active life appeared inconſiſtent with ſtudy: but there
the human mind, notwithſtanding, collected its greateſt
abilities, and received its beſt informations, in the midſt
of ſweat and of duft.
It is peculiar to modern Europe, to reſt ſo much of
the human character on what may be learned in re-
tirement,
V
Sect. 52
Of Intelleétual Powers.
45
1
A juſt
tirement, and from the information of books.
admiration of ancient literature, an opinion that hu .
man ſentiment, and human reaſon, without this aid, were
to have vaniſhed from the ſocieties of men, have led
us into the ſhade, where we endeavour to derive from
imagination and thought, what is in reality matter of ex-
perience and ſentiment: and we endeavour, through the
grammar of dead languages, and the channel of commen-
tators, to arrive at the beauties of thought and elocution,
which ſprang from the animated fpirit of ſociety, and were
taken from the living impreſſions of an active life. Our
attainments are frequently limited to the elements of eve-
ry ſcience, and ſeldom reach to that enlargement of abi-.
lity and power which uſeful knowledge ſhould give.
Like mathématicians, who ſtudy the Elements of Euclid,
but never think of menſuration, we read of ſocieties, but
do not propoſe to act with men: we repeat the language
of politics, but feel not the ſpirit of nations: we, attend,
to the formalities. of a military diſcipline, bụt know not
how.to.employ numbers of men to obtain any purpoſe.by.
ſtratagem.or force..
*
But for what end, it may be ſaid, point out a mif-
fortune that cannot be remedied? If national affairs call-
ed for exertion, the genius of men would awake; buc
in the receſs of better employment, the time which is
beſtowed' on ſtudy, if even attended with no other ad-
vantage, fërves to occupy with innocence the hours of
leiſure, and ſet bounds to the purſuit of ruinous and fri-
volous amuſements. From no better reaſon than this,
We
1
46
Part I.
Of Intelle&tual Powers.
we employ ſo many of our early years, under the rod,
to acquire what it is not expected we ſhould retain be-
yond the threſhold of the ſchool ; and whilſt we carry
the ſame frivolous character in our ſtudies that we do in
our amuſements, the human mind could not ſuffer more
from a contempt of letters, than it does from the falſe
importance which is given to literature, as a buſineſs for
life, not as a help to our conduct, and the means of
forming a character that may be happy in itſelf, and
uſeful to mankind.
IF that time which is paſſed in relaxing the powers of
the mind, and in with-holding every object but what
tends to weaken and to corrupt, were employed in for-
tifying thoſe powers, and in teaching the mind to re-
cogniſe its objects, and its ſtrength, we ſhould not, at
the years of maturity, be ſo much at a loſs for occupa-
tion; nor, in attending the chances of a gaming-table,
miſemploy our talents, or waſte the fire which remains
in the breaſt. They, at leaſt, who by their ſtations have
a ſhare in the government of their country, might be-
lieve themſelves capable of buſineſs ; and while the ſtate
had its armies and councils, might find objects enough
to amuſe, without throwing a perſonal fortune into ha-
zard, merely to cure the yawnings of a liſtleſs and inſig-
nificant life. It is impoſſible for ever to maintain the
| tone of ſpeculation ; it is impoſſible not ſometimes to feel
that we live among men.
1
1
Sect. 6
Of Moral Sentiment.
47
SECT
VI.
Of Moral Sentiment.
UPPE
PON a flight obſervation of what paſſes in human
life, we ſhould be apt to conclude, that the care of
ſubſiſtence is the principal ſpring of human actions. This
confideration leads to the invention and practice of me-
chanical arts; it ſerves to diſtinguiſh amuſement from
buſineſs ; and, with many, ſcarcely admits into compe-
tition any other ſubject of purſuit or attention. The
mighty advantages of property and fortune, when ftript
of the recommendations they derive from vanity, or the
more ſerious regards to independence and power, only
mean a proviſion that is made for animal enjoyment ;
and if our folicitude on this ſubject were removed, noc
only the toils of the mechanic, but the ſtudies of the
learned, would ceaſe; every department of public buſineſs
would become unneceſſary ; every ſenate-houſe would
be ſhut up, and every palace deſerted.
Is man therefore, in reſpect to his object, to be claffed
with the mere brutes, and only to be diſtinguiſhed by
faculties that qualify him to multiply contrivances for
the ſupport and convenience of animal life, and by the
extent of a fancy that renders the care of animal preſer-
vation to him more burdenſome than it is to the herd
with which he thares in the bounty of nature? If this
1
were
+
48
•Part I.
Of Moral Sentiment.
were his caſe, the joy which attends on ſucceſs, or the
griefs which ariſe from diſappointment, would make the
ſum of his paſſions. The torrent that waſted, or the
inundation that enriched his poſſeſſions, would give him
all the emotion with which he is ſeized, on the occaſión
of a wrong by which his fortunes are impaired, or of a
benefit by which they are preſerved and enlarged. His
fellow-creatures would be conſidered merely as they af-
fected his intereſt. Profit or loſs would ſerve to mark
the event of every tranſaction ; and the epithets uſeful or
detrimental would ſerve to diſtinguiſh his mates in ſociety,
as they do the tree which bears plenty of fruit, from that
which ſerves only to cumber the ground, or intercept
his view,
This, however, is not the hiſtory of our ſpecies.
What comes from a fellow-creature is received with pe-
culiar attention ; and every language abounds with terms
that. expreſs ſomewhat in the tranſactions of men, differ-
ent from ſucceſs and diſappointment. The boſom kindles
in company, while the point of intereſt in view has no-
thing to inflame; and a matter frivolous in itſelf, becomes
important, when it ſerves to bring to light the intentions
and characters of men. The foreigner, who believed that
Othello, on the ſtage, was enraged for the loſs of his
handkerchief, was not more miſtaken, than the reaſoner
who imputes any of the more vehement paſſions of men
to the impreſſions of mere profit or loſs.
MEN
5
Sect. 6:
Of Moral Sentiment.
49
an
Men afſemble to deliberate on buſineſs, they ſeparate
from jealouſies of intereſt; but in their ſeveral colliſions,
whether as friends or as enemies, a fire is ftruck out
which the regards to intereſt or ſafety cannot confine.
The value of a favour is not meaſured when ſentiments
of kindneſs are perceived ; and the term misfortune has
but a 'feeble meaning, when compared to that of infiele
and wrong.
141 ui
1
d...
As actors or ſpectators, we are perpetually made to
feel the difference of human conduct, and from a barc
recital of tranſactions which have paſſed in ages and
countries remote from our own, are moved-with: admira-
tion and pity, or tranſported with indignation and rage.
Our ſenſibility on this ſubject gives their charm, in re-
tirement, to the relations of hiſtory, and to the fictions
of poetry; fends forth the tear of compaſſion, gives to
the blood its briſkeſt movement, and to the eye its live-
lieft glances of difpleaſure or joy. It turns human life
into an intereſting ſpectacle, and perpetually ſolicits even
the indolent to mix, as opponents or friends, in the
ſcenes which are acted before them. Joined to the pow-
ers of deliberation and reaſon, it conſtitutes the baſis of
a moral nature ; and whilft-it dictates“the terms of praiſe
and of blame, ſerves to claſs our*fellow-creatures by the
moſt admirable and engaging, or the moſt odious and
contemptible, denominations.
mi
11
1
A
It is pleaſant to find men, who, in their ſpeculations,
deny the reality of moral diſtinctions, forget in detail the
G
general
.
:
1
4
+
50
Of Moral Sentiment. .
Part I.
general poſitions they maintain, and give looſe to ridi-
cule, indignation, and ſcorn, as if any of theſe ſenti-
ments could have place, were the actions of men indiffer-
ent; or with acrimony pretend to detect the fraud. by
which moral reſtraints have been impoſed, as if to cen-
ſure a fraud were not already to take part on the ſide
of morality *
---
HE
1
the thing
to
Can we explain the principles upon which mankind
adjudge the preference of characters, and upon which
they indulge ſuch vehement emotions of admiration or
contempt? If it be admitted that we cannot; are the facts
leſs true? or muft we ſuſpend the movements of the
heart until they :who are employed in framing ſyſtems of
ſcience have diſcovered the principle from which thoſe
movements proceed? If a finger burn, we care not for:
information on the properties of fire: if the heart be torn,
or the mind overjoyed, we have not leiſure for ſpecula-
tions on the ſubject of moral-ſenſibility.
1
1
It is fortunate in this, as in other articles to which
ſpeculation and theory are applied, that nature proceeds
in her courſe, whilſt the curious are buſied in the ſearch
of her principles. The peaſant, or the child, can reaſon,
and judge, and ſpeak his language, with a diſcernment,
à conſiſtency, and a regard to analogy, which perplex
the logician, the moraliſt
, and the grammarian, when
they would find the principle upon which the proceeding
* Mandeville.
is
11
未来
​Sect. 6.
Of Moral Sentiment.
51
is founded, or when they would bring to general rules,
what is ſo familiar, and ſo well ſuſtained in particular
caſes. The felicity of our conduct is more owing to the
talent we poſſeſs for detail, and to the ſuggeſtion of
ticular occaſions, than it is to any direction we can find
in theory and general ſpeculations.
par-
1
man
FI
We muſt, in the reſult of every inquiry, encounter
with facts which we cannot explain ; and to bear with this
mortificațion would ſave us frequently a great deal of
fruitleſs trouble. Together" with the ſenſe of our exiſt-
ence, we muſt admit many circumſtances which come to
our knowledge at the ſame time, and in the ſame man-
ner; and which do, in reality, conſtitute the mode of
our being. Every peaſant will tell us, that a man hath
his rights; and that to treſpaſs on thoſe rights is injuſtice.
If we aſk him farther, what he means by the term right?
we probably force him to ſubſtitute a lefs fignificant, or
leſs proper term, in the place of this; or require him to
account for what is an original mode of his mind, and a
ſentiment to which he ultimately refers, when he would
explain himſelf upon any particular application of his
language.
0
1
Whe
The rights of individuals may relate to a variety of
ſubjects, and be comprehended under different heads.
.
Prior to the eſtabliſhment of property, and the diſtinc-
tion' of ranks, men have a right to defend their perſons,
and to act with freedom ; they have a right to maintain
the apprehenſions of reaſon, and the feelings of the
heart;
!
G 2
KV
#
58
Part I.
Of Moral Sentiment.
។
A
1
heart; and they cannot for a moment aſſociate together,
without feeling that the treatment they give or receive
may be juſt or unjuſt
. It is not, however, our buſineſs here
to carry the notion of a right into its ſeveral applications,
but to reaſon on the ſentiment of favour with which that
notion is entertained in the mind. .
1
:
2
!
If it be true, that men are united by inſtinct, that
they act in ſociety from affections of kindneſs and friend-
fhip; if it be true, that even prior to acquaintance and
habitude, men, as ſuch, are commonly to one another
objects, of attention, and ſome degree of regard ; that
while their proſperity is beheld with · indifference, their
afflictions are conſidered with commiſeration; if calami-
ties be meaſured by the numbers and the qualities of
men they involve ; and if every-ſuffering of a fellow-crea-
ture. draws a crowd" of attentive ſpectators, ; if even in
the caſe of thoſe to whom we do not habitually wiſh
any poſitive good, we are ſtill averſé to be the inſtruments
of harm ; it ſhould ſeem, that in theſe various appear-
ances of an amicable diſpoſition, the foundations of a
moral apprehenfion are ſufficiently laid, and the ſenſe of
a right, which' wek-maintain for ourſelves, is by a move-
ment of humanity and candour extended to our fellow-
creatures.
T
V
IS
1
What is it that prompts the tongue when we cenſure
an act of cruelty or oppreſſion? What is it that conſti-
tutes our reſtraint from offences that tend to diſtreſs
our fellow-creatures? It, is probably, in both caſes, a
particular
+
-
2
1
.
Eit
Handler
Wh
ܐ
1
1
101
1
WWW
C
1
4
Sect. 6.
Of Moral Sentiment,
53
particular application of that principle, which, in pre-
ſence of the ſorrowful, ſends forth the tear of compaſ-
fion; and a combination of all thoſe ſentiments, which
conſtitute a benevolent diſpoſition ; and if not a reſolution:
to do good, at leaſt an averfion to be the inſtrument of
harm *.
It may be difficult
, however, to enumerate the mo-
tives of all the cenſures and commendations which are
applied to the actions of men. Even while we moralize,
every diſpoſition of the human mind may have its ſhare
in forming the judgement, and in prompting the tongue.
As jealouſy is often the moſt watchful guardian of cha-
ftity, fo malice is often the quickeſt ſpy to the failings of
our neighbour, Envy, affectation, and vanity, may
.
*
to,
1
V
1
.
* Mankind, we are told, are devoted to intereſt; and this, in all commercial
nations, is undoubtedly true : but it does not follow, that they are, by their natural
diſpoſitions, averſe to ſociety and mutual affection : proofs of the contrary remain,
even where intereſt triumphs moſt. What muſt we think of the force of that dif-
poſition to compaſſion, to candour, and good-will, which notwithſtanding the
prevailing opinion that the happineſs of a mani conſiſts iñ poſſeſſing the greateſt
poſſible ſhare of riches, preferments, and honours, ſtill keeps the parties who are
in competition for thoſe objects, on a tolerable footing of amity, and leads them
to abſtain even from their own ſuppoſed good, when their feizing it appears in the
light of a detriment to others ? What might we not expect from the human heart in
circumſtances which prevented this apprehenſion on the ſubject of fortune, or under
the influence of an opinion as ſteady and general as the former, that human felicity
does not conſiſt in the indulgences of animal appetite, but in thoſe of a benevolent
heart; not in fortune or jntereſt, but in the contempt of this very object, in the
courage and freedom which ariſe from this contempt, joined to a reſolute choice of
conduct, directed to the good of mapkind, or to the good of that particular fociety
to which the party belongs ?
dictate
it
+
1
+
TO
4
Y
-
1
r
on
km
r
?
54
Of. Moral Sentiment
Part I.
dictate the verdicts we give, and the worſt principles of
our nature may be at the bottom of our pretended zeal.
for morality ; but if we only mean to inquire, why they
who are well diſpoſed to mankind, apprehend, in every
inſtance, certain rights pertaining to their fellow-crea-
tures, and why they applaud the conſideration that is
paid to thoſe rights, we cannot perhaps aſſign a better
reaſon, than that the perſon who applauds, is well diſpo-
ſed to the welfare of the parties to whom his applauſes
refer:
When we conſider, that the reality of any amicable
propenſity in the human" mind has been frequently con-
teſted; when we recollect tħe prevalence of intereſted
competitions, with their attendant paſſions of jealouſy,
envy, and malice; it may féem ſtrange to alledge, that
love and compaſſion are the moſt powerful principles in
the human breaſt: but they are deſtined, on many occa-
fions, to urge with the moſt irreſiſtible vehemence ;'and
if the deſire of a ſelf-preſervations be more conſtant, and
more uniform, theſe are a more plentiful ſource of enthu-
ſiaſm, ſatisfaction, and joy. With a power, not inferior
to that of reſentment and rage, they hurry the mind in-
* to every facrifice of intereſt, and bear it undiſmayed
through every hardſhip and danger:
The diſpoſition on which friendſhip is grafted, glows
with ſatisfaction in the hours of tranquillity, and is plea-
ſant not only in its triumphs, but even in its forrows,
It throws a grace on the external air, and, by its expref-
fion
3
V
TE
th
ITTY
+
เสีย
**
TV
!
"k
* 1,
1
+
Sect. 6. Of Moral Sentiment.
55 :
fion on the countenance, compenſates for the want of
beauty, or gives a charın which no complexion or fca-
tures can equal. From this ſource the ſcenes of human
life derive their principal felicity; and their imitations in
poetry, their principal ornament. Deſcriptions oft nature,
eyen repreſentations of a vigorous conduct, and a manly
courage, do not engage the heart, if they be not mixed
with the exhibition of generous ſentiments, and the
pathetic, which is found to ariſe in the ſtruggles, the
triumphs, or the misfortunes of a tender affection. The
death of Polites, in the Æneid, is not more affecting than
that of many others, who periſhed in the ruins of Troy ;
but the aged : Priam was preſent when this laſt of his
ſons was, ſlain ; and the agonies of grief and ſorrow
force the parent from his retreat, to fall by the hand
that ſhed the blood of his child. The pathetic of Homer
conſiſts in exhibiting the force of affections, not in excit-
ing mere“ terror and pity; paſſions he has never perhaps,
* in any inſtance, attempted to raiſe.
With this tendency. to kindle into enthuſiaſm, with
this command over the heart, with the pleaſure that ät-
tends its emotions, and with all its effects in meriting
confidence, and procuring eſteem, it is not ſurprizing,
that a principle of humanity ſhould give the tone to our
commendations and our cenſures, and even where it is
hindered from directing our conduct, ſhould ſtill give to
** the mind, on reflection, its knowledge of what is deſirable
in the human character. What haft thou done with thy
brother Abel? was the firſt expoftulation in behalf of-mo-
rality',
1
1
N
1
10
,
A
1
1
1
This
So
1
***
!
:56
Ofi
. Moral Sentiment.
Part' 1.
3
..
+
.
a w
rality; and if the firſt anſwer has been often repeated,
mankind have notwithſtanding, in one ſenſe, fufficiëntly
acknowledged the charge of their nature. They have
felt, they have talked, and even acted, as the keepers of
their féllow-creatures : They have made the indications
of candour and mutual affection the teſt of what is
meritorious and amiable in the characters of men: They
have made cruelty and oppreflion the principal objects of
•their indignation and rage: Even 'while the head is occu-
pied with projects of intereſt, the heart is often féduced
into friendſhip, and while buſineſs proceeds on the max-
ims of ſelf-preſervation, the careleſs -hour is employed în
generoſity and kindneſs.
Hence the rule by which men commonly judge of
external actions, is taken from the ſuppoſed influence of
ſuch actions on the general, good. To abſtain from harm,
is. the great law of natural juſtice; to diffuſe happineſs is
the law of morality ; and when we cenſure the conferring
favour on one or a few at the expence of many, we
refer to public utility, as the great object at which the
actions of men ſhould be aimed.
a
font
AFTER all, it muſt be confeſſed, that if a principle
of affection to mankind; be the baſis of our moral ap-
probation and diſlike, we ſometimes proceed in diſtribu-
ting applauſe or cenſure, without preciſely attending to
the degree in which our fellow-creatures are hurt or ob-
liged; and that, beſides the virtues of candour, friendſhip,
generoſity and publicə ſpirit
, which bear an immediate,
8.
reference
st
V
។
1
1
11:53
*
Sect. 6.
Of Moral Sentiment.
57
1
reference to this principle, there are others which may
ſeem to derive their commendation from a different ſource.
Temperance, prudence, fortitude, are thoſe qualities like-
wiſe admired from a principle of regard to our fellow-
creatures ? Why not, ſince they render men happy in them-
ſelves, and uſeful to others ? He who is qualified to pro-
mote the welfare of mankind, is neither a fot, a fool, nor
a coward. Can it be more clearly expreſſed, that temper-
ance, prudence, and fortitude, are neceſſary to the charac-
ter we love and admire? I know well why I ſhould with
for them in myſelf; and why likewiſe I ſhould wiſh for
them in my friend, and in every perſon who is an object
of my affection. But to what purpoſe ſeek for reaſons of
approbation, wliere qualities are ſo neceſſary to our hap-
pineſs, and ſo great a part in the perfection of our na-
ture? We muſt ceaſe to eſteem ourſelves, and to diſtin-
guiſh what is excellent, when ſuch qualifications incur
our neglect.
A perſon of an affectionate mind, poſſeſſed of a maxim,
That he himſelf, as an individual, is no more than a
part of the whole that demands his regard, has found,
in that principle, a ſufficient foundation for all the vir-
tues; for a contempt of animal pleaſures, that would
ſupplant his principal enjoyment ; for an equal contempt
of danger or pain, that come to ſtop his purſuits of pub-
lic good. A vehement and ſteady affection magnifies
“ its object, and leſſens every difficulty or danger that
“ ſtands in the way.”
66 Aſk thoſe who have been
H
16 in
!
!
58
Part I.
Of Moral Sentiment.
22
" in love,” ſays Epictetus, “ they will know that I ſpeak
" truth."
-- I have before me,” ſays another eminent moraliſt *
an idea of juſtice, which, if I could follow in every
“ inſtance, I ſhould think myſelf the moſt happy of men.”
And it is, perhaps, of conſequence to their happineſs,
as well as to their conduct, if thoſe can be disjoined, that
men ſhould have this idea properly formed: It is perhaps
but. another name for that good of mankind, which the
virtuous are engaged to promote. · If virtue be the ſupreme
good, its beſt and moſt ſignal effect is, to communicate and
diffuſe itſelf.
To diſtinguiſh men by the difference of their moral
qualities, to eſpouſe one party from a ſenſe of juſtice,
to oppoſe another cven with indignation when excited by
iniquity, are the common indications of probity, and the
operations of an animated, upright, and generous fpirit.
To guard againſt unjuſt partialities, and ill-grounded anti-
pathies; to maintain that compoſure of mind, which, with-
out impairing its ſenſibility or ardour, proceeds in every
inſtance with diſcernment and penetration, are the marks
of a vigorous and cultivated ſpirit. To be able to follow
the dictates of ſuch a ſpirit through all the varieties of
human life, and with a mind always maſter of itſelf, in
proſperity and adverſity, and poſſeſſed of all its abilities,
when the ſubjects in hazard are life, or freedom, as much
* Perſian Letters.
as
4
ang
1
t
4
!
Sect. 6,
Of Moral Sentiment.
· 59
as in treating ſimple queſtions of intereſt, are the tri-
umphs of magnanimity, and true elevation of mind.
“ The event of the day is decided. Draw this javelin
“ from my body now," ſaid Epaminondas, “and let me
« bleed."
t
.
1
1
ar
1
In what ſituation, or by what inſtruction, is this won-
derful character to be formed ? Is it found in the nurſe-
ries of affectation, pertneſs, and vanity, from which fa-
fhion is propagated, and the genteel is announced ? in
great and opulent cities, where men vie with one another
in equipage, dreſs, and the reputation of fortune? Is it
within the admired precincts of a court, where we may
learn to ſmile without being pleaſed, to careſs without af-
fection, to wound with the ſecret weapons of envy and
jealouſy, and to reſt our perſonal importance on circum-
ſtances which we cannot always with honour command ?
No: but in a ſituation where the great ſentiments of the
heart are awakened; where the characters of men, not
their ſituations and fortunes, are the principal diſtinc-
tion ; where the anxieties of intereſt, or vanity, periſh in
the blaze of more vigorous emotions ; and where the hu-
man ſoul, having felt and recogniſed its objects, like an
animal who has tafted the blood of his prey, cannot de-
ſcend to purſuits that leave its talents and its force unem-
ployed.
+
Proper occaſions alone operating on a raiſed and a
happy diſpoſition, may produce this admirable effect,
whilſt
1
H 2
.
60
Part I.
Of Moral Sentiment.
4
tatcs.
whilſt mere inſtruction may always find mankind at a
loſs to comprehend its meaning, or inſenſible to its dic-
The caſe, however, is not deſperate, till we have
formed our ſyſtem of politics, as well as manners; till
we have ſold our freedom for titles, equipage, and diſ-
tinctions; till we ſee no merit but proſperity and power,
no diſgrace but poverty and neglect. What charm of in-
ſtruction can cure the mind that is tainted with this diſor-
der? What fyren voice can awaken a deſire of freedom,
that is hield to be meanneſs, and a want of ambition ? or
what perſuaſion can turn the grimace of politeneſs into real
ſentiments of humanity and candour ?
4
-
A.
S E C T.
VII.
Of Happineſs
H4
+
AVING had under our conſideration the active powers
and the moral qualities which diſtinguiſh the na-
ture of man, is it ſtill neceſſary that we ſhould treat of his
happineſs apart? This ſignificant term, the moſt frequent,
and the moſt familiar, in our converſation, is, perhaps, on
reflection, the leaſt underſtood. It ſerves to expreſs our ſa-
tisfaction, when any deſire is gratified : It is pronounced
with a ſigh, when our object is diſtant: It means what we
wiſh to obtain, and what we ſeldom ſtay to examine. We
eſtimate the value of every ſubject by its utility, and its
influence
2
Sect. 7.
Of Happineſs.
6
influence on happineſs; but we think that utility itſelf, and
happineſs, require no explanation.
1
1
.
Those men are commonly eſteemed the happieſt, whoſe
deſires are moſt frequently gratified. But if, in reality, the
poſſeſſion of what they deſire, and a continued fruition,
were requiſite to happineſs, mankind for the moſt part
would have reaſon to complain of their lot. What they
call their enjoyments, are generally momentary ; and the
object of fanguine expectation, when obtained, no longer
continues to occupy the mind: A new paſſion ſucceeds,
and the imagination, as before, is intent on a diſtant
felicity.
1
How many reflections of this ſort are ſuggeſted by
melancholy, or by the effects of that very languor and
inoccupation into which we would willingly ſink, under
the notion of freedom from care and trouble ?
When we enter on a formal computation of the en-
joyments or ſufferings which are prepared for mankind,
it is chance but we find that pain, by its intenſeneſs,
its duration, or frequency, is greatly predominant. Ther
activity and eagerneſs with which we preſs from oner
ſtage of life to another, our unwillingneſs to return on
the paths we have trod, our averfion in age to renew the
frolics of youth, or to repeat in manhood thc amuſements
of children, have been accordingly ſtated as proofs, that
:
our
62
Part I.
Of Happineſs.
re
!
our memory of the, paſt, and our feeling of the preſent,
are equal ſubjects of diſlike and diſpleaſure *
1
This concluſion, however, like many others, drawn
from our ſuppoſed knowledge of cauſes, does not corre-
ſpond with experience. In every ſtreet, in every, village,
in every field, the greater number of perſons we meet,
carry an aſpect that is chearful or thoughtleſs, indifferent,
compoſed, buſy, or 'animated.
The labourer whiſtles to
his team, and the mechanic is at caſe in his calling; the
frolicfome and the gay feel a ſeries of pleaſures, of which
we know not the ſource; even they who demonſtrate
the miſeries of human life, when intent on their argu-
ment, eſcape from their ſorrows, and find a tolerable paf-
time in proving that men are unhappy.
4
1
1
The very terms pleaſure and pain, perhaps, are equi-
vocal; but if they are confined, as they appear to be in
many of our reaſonings, to the 'mere ſenſations which
have a reference to external objects, either in the memo
ry of the paſt, the feeling of the preſent, or the appre-
henſion of the future, it is a great error to ſuppoſe, that
they comprehend all the conſtituents of happineſs or mi-
ſery; or that the good humour of an ordinary life is
maintained by the prevalence of thoſe pleaſures which
have their ſeparate names, and are, on reflection, diſtinctly
remembered.
Maupertuis; Elai de Morale.
THE
1
1
1
t
..
Sect. 7.
Of Happineſs.
63
The mind, during the greater part of its exiſtence, is
employed in active exertions, not in merely attending to
its own feelings of pleaſure or pain ; and the liſt of its
faculties, underſtanding, memory, foreſight, ſentiment,
will, and intention, only contains the names of its differ-
ent operations.
1
4
IF, in the abſence of every ſenſation to which we com-
monly give the names either of enjoyment or ſuffering, our
very exiſtence may have its oppoſite qualities of happineſs
or miſery; and if what we call pleaſure or pain, occupies
but a ſmall part of human life, compared to what paſſes
in contrivance and execution, in purſuits and expecta-
tions, in conduct, reflection, and ſocial engagements;
it muſt appear, that our active purſuits, at leaſt on ac-
count of their duration, deſerve the greater part of our
attention. When their occaſions have failed, the demand
is not for pleaſure, but for ſomething to do; and the very
complaints of a ſufferer are not ſo ſure a mark of diſtreſs,
as the ſtare of the languid.
1
.
+
#
We ſeldom, however, reckon any taſk which we are
bound to perform, among the bleſſings of life. We al-
ways aim at a period of pure enjoyment, or a termina-
tion of trouble ; and overlook the fource from which
moſt of our preſent ſatisfactions are really drawn. Aſk the
buſy, Where is the happineſs to which they aſpire ? they will
anſwer, perhaps, That it is to be found in the object of ſome
preſent purſuit. If we aſk, Why they are not miſer-
able in the abſence of that happincís? they will ſay, That
they
1
.
5
64
Part I.
Of Happineſs.
.
they hope to attain it. But is it hope alone that ſupports
the mind in the midſt of precarious and uncertain .prof-
pects? and would aſſurance of ſucceſs fill the intervals of
expectation with more pleaſing emotions? Give the huntf-
man his prey, give the gamefter the gold which is ſtaked
on the game, that the one may not need to fatigue his
per-
fon, nor the other to perplex his mind, and both will
probably laugh at our folly: the one will ſtake his mo-
ney anew, that he may be perplexed; the otſier will turn
his ſtag to the field, that he may hear the cry of the dogs,
and follow through danger and hardſhip. Withdraw
the occupations of men, terminate their deſires, exiſt-
ence is a burden, and the iteration of memory is a tor-
ment.
1
The men of this country, ſays one lady, ſhould learn
to ſow and to knit ; it would hinder their time from be-
ing a burden to themſelves, and to other people. That
is true, ſays another; for my part, though I never look
abroad, I tremble at the proſpect of bad weather ; for
then the gentlemen come mopping to us for entertain-
ment; and the ſight of a huſband in diſtreſs, is but a
melancholy ſpectacle.
In deviſing, or in executing a plan, in being carried
on the tide of emotion and ſentiment, the mind ſeems to
unfold its being, and to enjoy itſelf. Even where the
end and the object are known to be of little avail, the
talents and the fancy are often intenſely applied, and bu-
fineſs or play may amuſe them alike. We only deſire repoſe
to
.
Sect. 7.
Of Happineſs.
65
to recruit our limited and our waſting force: when buſi-
neſs fatigues, amuſement is often but a change of occu-
pation. We are not always unhappy, even when we com-
plain. There is a kind of affliction which makes an agree-
able ſtate of the mind; and lamentation itſelf is ſome-
times an expreſſion of pleaſure. The painter and the poet
have laid hold of this handle, and find, among the means
of entertainment, a favourable reception for works that.are
compoſed to awaken our forrows.
V
*
To a being of this deſcription, therefore, it is a blef-
ing to meet with incentives to action, whether in the deſire
of pleaſure, or the averſion to pain. His activity is of more
importance than the pleaſure he ſeeks, and languor a
greater evil than the ſuffering he ſhuns.
1
The gratifications of animal appetite are of ſhort dura-
tion; and ſenſuality is but a diſtemper of the mind, which
ought to be cured by remembrance, if it were not perpe-
tually inflamed by hope. The chace is not more ſurely ter-
minated by the death of the game, than the joys of the
voluptuary by the means of completing his debauch. As
a bond of ſociety, as a matter of diſtant purſuit, the objects
of ſenſe make an important part in the ſyſtem of human
life. They lead us to fulfil the purpoſe of nature, in pre-
ſerving the individual, and in perpétuating the ſpecies: but
to rely on their uſe as a principal conſtituent of human
felicity, were an error in ſpeculation, and would be ſtill
more an error in practice. Even the maſter of the ſeraglio,
I
for
1
1
1
66
Part 1.
Of Happineſs.
1
for whom all the treaſures of empire are extorted from
the hoards of its frighted inhabitants, for whom alone
the choiceſt emerald and the diamond are drawn from
the mine, for whom every breeze is enriched with per-
fumes, for wliom beauty is aſſembled from every quar-
ter, and, animated by paſſions that ripen under the
vertical fun, is confined to the grate for his uſe, is ſtill,
perhaps, more wretched than the very herd of the peo-
ple, whoſe labours and properties are devoted to relieve
him of trouble, and to procure him enjoyment.
SENSUALITY is eaſily overcome by any of the habits
of purſuit which uſually engage an active mind. When
curioſity is awake, or when paſſion is excited, even in the
midſt of the feaſt when converſation grows warm, grows
jovial, or ſerious, the pleaſures of the table we know are
forgotten. Tlie boy contemns them for play, and the
inan of age declines them for buſineſs.
c
1
THEN we reckon the circumſtances that correſpond" to
the nature of any animal, or to that of man in particu-
lar, ſuch as ſafety, ſhelter; food; and: the other. means
of enjoyment or preſervation, we ſometimes think that
we have found a fenfible and ſolid foundation on which
to reſt his felicity. But thoſe who are leaſt diſpoſed to mo-
ralize, obſerve; that happineſs is not connected with for-
tune, although fortune includes at once all the means of
fubſiſtence, and the means of ſenſual indulgence: The cir-
cumſtances that require abſtinence, courage; and
duct, expoſe us to hazard, and are in deſcription of the
3
painful
and con-
1
។
.
1
1
!
-
Sect. 71
Of Happines.
67
painful kind; yet the able, the brave, and the ardent,
ſeem moſt to enjoy themſelves when placed in the midit
of difficulties, and obliged to employ the powers they
poffefs.
SPINOLA being told, that Sir Francis Vere died of
Iraving nothing to do, ſaid, “ That was enough to kill a
general.*" How many are there to whom war itſelf is a
paſtime, who chuſe the life of a ſoldier, expoſed to dan-
gers and continued fatigues ; of a mariner, in conflict
with every hardſhip, and bereft of every conveniency; of
a politician, whoſe ſport is the conduct of parties and
factions; and who, rather than be idle, will do the buſi-
neſs of men and of nations for whom he has not the
ſmalleſt regard. Such- men do not chuſe pain as prefera-
ble to pleaſure, but they are incited by a reſtleſs diſpoſition
to make continued exertions of capacity and reſolution ;
they triumph in the midſt of their ſtruggles ; they droop
and they languiſh, when the occaſion of their labour las
ceaſed.
+
1
1
4
:
WHAT was enjoyment, in the ſenſe of that youth,
who, according to Tacitus, loved danger itſelf, not the
rewards of courage? . What is the proſpect of pleaſure,
when the ſound of the horn or the trumpet, the cry of
the dogs, or the ſhout of war, awaken the ardour of the
ſportſman and the ſoldier? The moſt animating occa-
fions of human life, are calls to danger and hardſhip,
1
# Life of Lord Herbert.
1
1 2
not
Haluar
1
1
1
68
Of Happineſs.
Part I.
1
+
'
2
not invitations to ſafety and caſe : and man himſelf, in
his excellence, is not an animal of pleaſure, nor deſtined
merely to enjoy what the elements bring to his uſe ; but,
like his aſſociates, the dog and the horſe, to follow the
exerciſes of his nature, in preference to what are called
its enjoyments; to pine in the lap of eaſe and of affluence,
and to exult in the midſt of alarms that ſeem to threaten
his being. In all which, his diſpoſition to action only
keeps peace with the variety of powers with which he is
furnished; and the moſt reſpectable attributes of his na-
ture, magnanimity, fortitude, and wiſdom, carry a ma-
nifeſt reference to the difficulties with which he is defti-
ned to ſtruggle.
+
If animal pleaſure becomes inſipid when the ſpirit is
rouſed by a different object, it is well known likewiſe,
that the ſenſe of pain is prevented by any vehement affec-
tion of the ſoul. Wounds received in a heat of paflion,
in the hurry, the ardour, or conſternation of battle, are
never felt till the ferment of the mind fubfides.
Even
torments, deliberately applied, and induſtriouſly prolong-
ed, are borne with firmneſs, and with an appearance of
eaſe, when the mind is poſſeſſed with ſome vigorous ſen-
timent, whether of religion, enthuſiaſm, or love to man-
kind. The continued mortifications of ſuperſtitious de-
votees in ſeveral ages of the Chriſtian church'; the wild
penances, ſtill voluntarily borne, during many years, by
the religioniſts of the eaſt; the contempt in which famine
and torture are held by moſt favage nations; the chear-
ful
1
..
Sect. 7.
Of Happineſs.
69
ful or obſtinate patience of the foldier in the field ; the
hardſhips endured by the ſportſman in his paſtime, ſhow
how much we may err in computing the miſeries of men,
from the meaſures of trouble and of ſuffering they ſeem
to incur.
And if there be a refinement in affirming,
that their happineſs is not to be meaſured by the contrary
enjoyments, it is a refinement which was made by Re-
gulus and Cincinnatus before the date of philoſophy ; it
is a refinement, which every boy knows at his play, and
every ſavage confirms, when he looks from his foreſt on
the pacific city, and ſcorns the plantation, whoſe maſter
he cares not to imitate.
1
1
4
11
MAN, it muſt be confeſſed, notwithſtanding all this
activity of his mind, is an animal in the full extent of
that deſignation. When the body fickens, the mind droops;
and when the blood ceaſes to flow, the ſoul takes its de-
parture. Charged with the care of his preſervation, admo-
niſhed by a ſenſe of pleaſure or pain, and guarded by
an inſtinctive fear of death, nature has not intruſted his
ſafety to the mere vigilance of his underſtanding, nor to :
the government of his uncertain reflections.
1
1
The diſtinction betwixt mind and body is followed
by conſequences of the greateſt importance ; but the facts
to which we now refer, are not founded on any tenets
whatever. They are equally true, whether we admit or
reject the diſtinction in queſtion, or whether we ſuppoſe,
that this living agent is formed of one, or is an aſſem- -
blage of ſeparate natures. And the materialiſt, by treat-.
ing
1
*
2
1
70
.
Part I.
Of Happineſs.
ing of man as of an engine, cannot make any change
in the ſtate of his hiſtory. He is a being, who, by a mul-
tiplicity of viſible organs, performs a variety of functions.
His joints are bent, and his muſcles relax and contract in
our fight; the heart beats in his breaſt, and the blood flows
to every part of his frame. He performs other operations
which he cannot refer to any corporeal organ. He perceives,
he recollects, and forecaſts; he deſires, and he ſhuns; he
admires, and contemns. He enjoys his pleaſures, or he
endures his pain.. All theſe different functions, in ſome
meaſure, go well or ill together. When the motion of the
blood is languid, the muſcles relax, the underſtanding is
tardy, and the fancy is dull: when diſtemper aſſails him,
the phyſician muſt attend no leſs“to what he thinks, than
to what he eats, and examine the returns of his paſſion,
together with the ſtrokes of his pulſe.
1
With all his fagacity, his precautions, and his in-
ſtincts, which are given to preſerve his being, he partakes
in the fate of other animals, and ſeems to be formed
only that he may die. Myriads periſh before they reach
the perfection of their kind; and the individual, with an
option to owe the prolongation of his temporary courſe
to reſolution and conduct, or to abject fear, frequently
chuſes the latter, and by a habit of timidity, imbitters
the life he is ſo intent to preſerve.
1
Man, however, at times, exempted from this mortify-
ing lot, ſeems to act without any regard to the length of
his
1
.
Sect..7
1
1
A
1
Of Happineſs.
71
his period. When he thinks intenſely, or deſires with
ardour, pleaſures and pains from any other quarter afſail
him in vain.. Even in his dying hour, the muſcles acquire
a tone from his fpirit, and the mind ſeems to depart in its
vigour, and in the midſt of a ſtruggle to obtain the recent
aim of its toils. Muley Moluck, borne on his litter, and
fpent with diſeaſe, ſtill fought the battle, in the midſt of
which he expired ; and the laſt effort he made, with a finger
on liis lips, was a ſignal to conceal his death*: the precau-
tion, perhaps of all which he had hitherto taken, the moſt
neceſſary to prevent a defeat.
GAN no reflections? aid us in acquiring this habit
of the ſoul, ſo uſeful in carrying us through many of the
ordinary ſcenes of life? If we : ſay, that they cannot, the
reality of its happineſs is not the leſs evident. The Greeks
and the Romans conſidered contempt of pleaſure, endurance
of pain, and neglect of life, as eminent qualities of a man,
and a principal ſubject of diſcipline. They truſted, that
the vigorous fpirit would find worthy objects on which to
employ its force ; and that the firſt ſtep towards a reſolute
choice of ſuch objects was to ſhake off the meanneſs of a
folicitous and timorous mind..
MANKIND, in general, have, courted . occaſions to dif-
play their courage, and frequently, in ſearch of admira-
tion, have preſented a ſpectacle, which to thoſe who
have ceaſed to regard fortitude on its own account, , be- -
comes a ſubject of horror. Scevola held his arm in the:
1
.
.
4.
r
!
* Vertot, Revolutions of Portugal
fires
7
1
72
Part I.
Of Happineſs.
1
fire, to ſhake the ſoul of Porſenna. The favage inures his
body to the torture, that in the hour of trial he may
exult over his enemy.
Even the Muſſulman tears his
fleſh to win the heart of his miſtreſs, and comes in gaiety,
ſtreaming with blood, to fhew that he deſerves her
eſteem *
Some nations carry the practice of inflicting, or of
ſporting with pain, to a degree that is either cruel or ab-
ſurd ; others regard every proſpect of bodily ſuffering as
the greateſt of evils ; and in the midſt of their troubles
imbitter every real affliction, with the terrors of a feeble
and dejected imagination. We are not bound to anſwer
for the follies of either, nor, in treating a queſtion which
relates to the nature of man, make an eſtimate of its
ſtrength, or its weakneſs, from the habits or apprehenſions
peculiar to any nation or age.
!
1
S E C T.
VIII.
The ſame ſubječt continued.
7
1
HOEVER has compared together the different
conditions and manners of men, under varie-
ties of education or fortune, will be ſatisfied, that
mere ſituation does not conſtitute their happineſs or
+
* Letters of the Right Honourable Lady M-W. Me.
74
miſery;
1
1
----
Sect. 8.
Of Happineſs.
73
miſery; nor a diverſity of external obſervances imply
any oppoſition of ſentiments on the ſubject of mo-
rality. They expreſs their kindneſs and their enmity
in different actions ; but kindneſs or enmity is ſtill the
principle article of conſideration in human life. They
engage in different purſuits, or acquieſce in different con-
ditions ; but act from paſſions nearly the ſame. There is
no preciſe meaſure of accommodation required to ſuit
their conveniency, nor any degree of danger or ſafety
under which they are peculiarly fitted to act. Courage
and generoſity, fear and envy, are not peculiar to any ſta-
tion or order of men ; nor is there any condition in
which ſome of the human race have not ſhewn, that it is
poſſible to employ, with propriety, the talents and vir-
tues of their ſpecies.
What, then, is that myſterious thing called Hap-
pineſs, which may have place in ſuch a variety of ſtations,
and to which circumſtances in one age or nation thought
neceſſary, are in another held to be deſtructive, or of no
effect? It is not the ſucceflion of mere animal pleaſures,
which, apart from the occupation or the company in
which they ſerve to engage the mind, can fill up but a
few moments in the duration of life. On too frequent a
repetition, thoſe pleaſures turn to ſatiety and diſguſt; they
tear the conſtitution to which they are applied in exceſs,
and, like the lightning of night, only ſerve to darken the
gloom through which they occaſionally break. Happi-
neſs is not that ſtate of repoſe, or that imaginary free-
dom from care, which at a diſtance is ſo frequent an ob-
K
ject
1
---
74
Part ).
Of Happineſs.
ject of deſire, but with its approach brings a tedium, or
a languor, more unſupportable than pain itſelf. If the
preceding obſervations on this ſubject be juſt, it ariſes .
more from the purſuit, than from the attainment of any
end whatever; and in cvery new ſituation to which we
árrive, even in the courſe of a proſperous life, it depends
more on the degree in which our minds are properly em--
ployed, than it does on the circumſtances in which we
are deſtined to act, on the materials which are placed in
our hands, or the tools with which we are furniſhed.
+
If this. be confeſſed in reſpect to that claſs of purſuits
which are diſtinguiſhed by the name of amuſement, and
which, in the caſe of men who are commonly deemed
the moſt happy, occupy the greater part of human life;-.
we may apprehend, that it holds, much more than is
commonly ſuſpected, in many caſes of buſineſs, where the
end to be gained, and not the occupation, is ſuppoſed
to have the principal value.
*
The miſer himſelf, we are told, can ſometimes con-
ſider the care of his wealth as a paſtime, and has chal-
lenged his heir, to havc more pleaſure in ſpending, than
he in amaſſing his fortunc. With this degree of indiffer-
ence to what may be thic conduct of others; with this
confinement of his care to what he has choſen as his
own province, more eſpecially if he has conquered in
himſelf the paſſions of jealouſy and envy, which tear the
covetous mind; wliy may not the man whoſe object is
money, be underſtood to lead a life of amuſement and
pleaſure,
1
1
Sect. 8.
Of Happineſs.
75
1
pleaſure, not only more entire than that of the ſpend-
thrift, but cven as much as the virtuoſo, the ſcholar, the
man of taſte, or any of that claſs of perſons who have
found out a method of paſſing their leiſure without of-
fence, and to whom the acquiſitions made, or the works
produced, in their ſeveral ways, perhaps, are as uſeleſs
as the bag to the miſer, or the counter to thoſe who play
from mere diſſipation at any game of ſkill or of chance ?
3
.
We arc foon tired of diverſions that do not approach
to the nature of buſineſs, that is, that do not engage ſome
paſſion, or give an exerciſe proportioned to our talents,
and our faculties. The chace and the gaming-table
have each their dangers and difficulties, to excite and
employ the mind. All games of contention animate our
emulation, and gives a ſpecies of party-zeal. The mathe-
matician is only to be amuſed with intricate problems,
the lawyer and the caſuiſt with caſes that try their ſub-
tilty, and occupy their judgment.
The deſire of active engagements, like every other
natural appetite, may 'be carried to excefs ; and men may
debauch in amuſements, as well as in the uſe of wine, or
other intoxicating liquors. At firſt, a trifling ſtake, and
the occupation of a moderate paſſion, may have ſerved to
amuſe the gameſter ; but when the drug becomes fami-
liar, it fails to produce its effect: The play is made deep,
and the intereſt increaſed, to awaken his attention ; he is
carried on by degrees, and in the end comes to ſeek for
amuſement, and to find it only in thoſe paſſions of
anxiety,
1
I
K 2
1
1
I
76
Part F.
Of Happineſs.
anxiety, hope, and deſpair, which are rouſed by tħe liazarck
into which he has thrown the whole of his fortunes.
1
If* men can thus turn their amuſements into a ſcene
more ſerious and intereſting than that of buſineſs itſelf,
it will be difficult to aſſign a reaſon, why buſineſs, and
many of the occupations of human life; independent of
any diſtant conſequences, or future events, may not be.
choſen as an amuſement, and adopted on account of the
paftime they bring. This is, perhaps, the foundation
on which, without the aid of reflection, the contented
and the chearful have refted the gaiety of their tempers..
It is perliaps the moſt ſolid baſis of fortitude which any
reflection can lay; and happinefs itſelf is ſecured, by
making a certain fpecies of conduct our amuſement;
and, by conſidering life; in the general' eſtimate of its va:
lue, as well as on every particular occaſion, as a mere
ſcene for the exerciſe of the mind, and the engagements
of the heart. “ I will try and attempt every thing,"
' ſays
Brutus, “ I will never ceaſe to recal. my, country from
" this ſtate of ſervility.. If the event be favourable, it will.
prove matter of joy to us all; if not, yet I, notwith-
ſtanding, ſhall rejoice.” Why. rejoice. in a diſappoint--
ment? Why not be dejected, when his country was.
overwhelmed ? Becauſe ſorrow, perhaps, and dejection,
can do no good: Nay, but they muſt be endured when
they come.. And whence ſhould they come to me? might.
the Roman ſay; I have followed. my mind, and can
follow it ſtill.. Events may have changed the ſituation in.
which I am deſtined to act; but can they hinder my act-
ing
16
1
1
E
Sect.. 8.
Of Happineſs.
77
ing the part of a man? Shew me a ſituation in which
a man can neither act nor die, and I will own he is
wretched.
Whoever has the force of mind ſteadily to view hu-
man life under this aſpect, has only to chuſe well. his
occupations, in order to command that ſtate of enjoy-
ment, and freedom of ſoul, which probably conſtitute the
peculiar felicity to which his active nature is deſtined.
1
The diſpoſitions of men, and conſequently their occu-
pations, are commonly divided into two principal claſſes
the ſelfiſh and the ſocial. The firſt are indulged in foli-
tude; and if they carry a reference to mankind, it is
that of emulation, competition, and enmity. The fe-
cond incline us. to live with our fellow-creatures, and to
do them good ; they tend to unite the members of ſociety.
together; they terminate in a mutual participation of
their cares and enjoyments, and render the preſence of
men an. occaſion of joy. Under this claſs may be enu-
merated the paſſions of the ſexes, the affections of pa-
rents and children, general humanity, or ſingular at-
tachments; above all, that habit of the ſoul by which we
conſider ourſelves as but a part of ſome beloved commu-
nity, and as. but individual members of ſome ſociety,
whoſe general welfare is to us the ſupreme object of zeal,
and the great rule of our conduct. This affection is a
principle of candour, which knows no partial diſtinc-
tions, and is confined to no bounds : it may extend its;
effects beyond. our perſonal acquaintance; it may in the
4
mind,
*
78
Part 1
1
Of Happineſs
.
1.
mind, and in thought, at leaſt, make us feel a relation
to the univerſe, and to the whole creation of God. "Shall
any one,” ſays Antoninus, " love the city of Cecrops, and
you not love the city of God?"
1
1
1
No emotion of the heart is indifferent. It is either an
act of vivacity and joy, or a feeling of ſadneſs ; a tranſ-
port of pleaſure, or a convulſion of anguiſh : and the exer-
ciſes of our different diſpoſitions, as well as their gratifi-
cations, are likely to prove matter of the greateſt impor-
tance to our happineſs or miſery.
The individual is charged with the care of his animal
preſervation. He may exiſt in ſolitude, and, far removed
from fociety, perform many functions ofa. ſenſe, imagi-
nation, and reaſon. He is even rewarded for the proper
diſcharge of thoſe functions; and all the natural exerci-
ſes which relate to himſelf, as well as to his fellow-crea-
tures, not only occupy without diſtreſſing him, but in
many inſtances are attended with poſitive pleaſures, and
fill up the hours of life with agreeable occupation.
1
There is a degree, however, in which we ſuppoſe that
the care of ourſelves becomes a ſource of painful anxiety
and cruel paſſions ; in which it degenerates into avarice,
vanity, or pride; and in which, by foſtering habits of
jealouſy and envy, of fear and malice, it becomes as de-
ſtructive of our own enjoyments, as it is hoſtile to the
welfare of mankind. This evil, however, is not to be
charged
1
2
+
t
1
1
79
Sect. 8.
Of Happineſs.
charged upon any exceſs in the care of ourſelves, but ap-
on a mere miſtake in the choice of our objects. We look
abroad for a happineſs which is to be found only in the
qualities of the heart: we think ourſelves dependent on
accidents; and are therefore kept in ſuſpenſe and folici-
tude: we think ourſelves dependent on the will of other
men; and are therefore ſervile and timid: we think our
felicity is placed in ſubjects for which our fellow-crea-
tures are rivals and competitors ; and in purſuit of hap-
pineſs, we engage in thoſe ſcenes of emulation, envy, ha-
tred, animoſity, and revenge, that lead to the higheſt
pitch of diſtreſs. We act, in ſhort, as if to preſerve
ourſelves were to retain our weakneſs, and perpetuate
ſufferings. We charge the ills of a diſtempered
imagination, and a corrupt heart, to the account of our
fellow-creatures, to whom we refer the pangs of our dif-
appointment or malice; and while we fofter our miſery,
are ſurprized that the care of ourſelves is attended with
no better effects. But he who remembers that he is by
nature a rational being, and a member of ſociety; that
to preſerve himſelf is to preſerve his īcaſon, and to pre-
ſerve the beſt feelings of his heart; will encounter with :
none of theſe inconvcnicncies ; and in the care of him-
ſelf, will find ſubjects only of fatisfaction and triumph.
our
1
The diviſion of our appetites into benevolent and ſel-
fiſh, has probably, in ſome degree, helped to millead
our apprehenſion on the ſubject of perſonal enjoyment
and private good; and our zcal to prove that virtue is
diſintereſted, has not greatly promoted its cauſe. The
gratification
1
80
Part 1.
Of Happineſs.
gratification of a ſelfiſh deſire, it is thought, brings ad-
vantage or pleaſure to ourſelves ; that of benevolence ter-
minates in the pleaſure or advantage of others: whereas,
in reality, the gratification of every deſire is a perſonal
enjoyment, and its value being proportioned to the par-
ticular quality or force of the ſentiment, it may happen
that the ſame perſon may reap a greater advantage from
the good fortune he has procured to another, than from
that he lias obtained for himſelf.
While the gratifications of benevolence, therefore,
are as much our own as thoſe of any other deſire what-
ever, the mere exerciſes of this diſpoſition are, on many
accounts, to be conſidered as the firſt and the principal
conſtituent of human happineſs. Every act of kindneſs,
or of care in the parent to his child; every emotion of
the heart, in friendſhip or in love, in public zeal, or ge-
neral 'humanity, are ſo many acts of enjoyment and
ſatisfaction. Pity itſelf; and compaſſion, even grief and
melancholy, when grafted on ſome tender affection, par-
take of the nature of the ſtock; and if they are not pofi-
tive pleaſures, are at lcaſt pains of a peculiar nature,
which we do not even wiſh to exchange but for a very real
enjoyment, obtained in relieving our object.
Even ex-
tremes, in this claſs of our diſpoſitions, as they are the
reverſe of hatred, envy, and malice, 'ſo they are never
attended with thoſe excruciating anxieties, jealouſies,
and fears, which tear the intereſted mind; or if, in
reality, any ill paflion ariſe from a pretended attach-
ment to our fellow-creatures, that attachment may be
ſafely
..
Sect. 8.
Of Happineſs."
8;.
fafely condemned, as not genuine. If we be diſtruſtful
or jealous, our pretended affection is probably no more
than a deſire of attention and perſonal conſideration, a
motive which frequently inclincs us to be connected with
our fellow-creatures ; but to which we are as frequently
willing to ſacrifice their happineſs. We conſider them as
the tools of our vanity, pleaſure, or intereſt; not as the
parties on whom we may beſtow the effects of our good-
will, and our love.
A mind devoted to this claſs of its affections,, being
occupied with an object that may engage it habitụally,
is not reduced to court the amuſements or pleaſures with
which perſons of an ill temper are obliged to repair their
diſguſts : and temperance becomes an eaſy taſk when
gratifications of ſenſe are. fupplanted by thoſe of the
heart. Courage too is moſt eaſily aſſumed, or is rather
inſeparable from that ardour of the mind, in ſociety,
friendſhip, or in public action, which makes us forget
fubjects of perſonal anxiety or fear, and attend chiefly
to the object of our zeal or affection, not tº the trifling
inconveniencies, dangers, or hardſhips, which we our-
felves may encounter in ſtriving to maintain it.
2
It ſhould ſeem, therefore, to be the happineſs of
man, to make his ſocial diſpoſitions the ruling ſpring of
his occupations ; to ſtate himſelf as the member of a
community, for whoſe general good his heart may glow
with an ardent zeal, to the ſuppreſſion of thoſe perſonal
L
cares
L
82
Of Happineſs.
Part I.
+
7
!
cares which are the foundation of painful anxieties,
fear, jealouſy, and envy; or, as Mr. Pope expreſſes the
fame ſentiment,
" Man, like the generous vine, ſupported lives ;
« The ſtrength, he gains, iş. from thembrące he gives *.”
If this be the good of the individual, it is likewiſe that
of mankind; and virtue no longer impoſes a taſk by
which we are obliged to beſtow upon others that good
from which we ourſelves, refrain; but fuppoſes, in the
higheſt degree, as poſſeſſed by ourſelves, that ſtate of
felicity, which we are required to promote in the world.
content
เ
1
6 You
We commonly apprehend, that it is our duty to do
kindoefles, and our happineſs to receive them:, but if,
in reality, courage, and a heart devoted to the good of
mankind, are the conſtituents of human felicity; the
kindneſs which is done infers a happineſs in the perfon
from, whom it proceeds, not in him on whom it is be-
Nowed ;, and the greateſt good, which men pofleffed of
fortitude and generoſity, can procure to their fellow-crea-
tures, is a participation of this happy character.
« will confer the greateſt benefit on your city," ſays
Epictetus, “nor by raiſing the roofs, but by exalting the
« fouls of your fellow-citizens.;; for: it is better that great
* fouls ſhould live in ſmall habitations, than that abject
4. flaves, ſhould burrow in great houſes t."
The Lamte maxim will apply. throughout every part of nature. To lave,
išla enjcy pleaſure : To hate, is to be in pain.
+ Mrs. Carter's tranNation of the works of Epictetus.
4
Το
V
83
>
Sect. 8.
Of Happineſs.
To the benevolent, thç. fatisfaction of others is a
ground of enjoyment; and exiſtence itſelf, 'in a world
that is governed by the wiſdom of God, is a bleſſing.
The mind, freed from cares that lead to pufillanimity
and meanneſs, becomes calm, active, fearleſs, and bold;
capable of every enterpriſe, and vigorous in the exer-
ciſe of every talent, by which the nature of man is
adorned. On this foundation was raiſed the admirable
character, which, during a certain period of their ſtory,
diſtinguiſhed the celebrated nations of antiquity, and
rendered familiar and ordinary in their manners, ex-
amples of magnanimity, which, under governments leſs
fàvourable to the public affections, rarely, occur ;, or
which, without being much practiſed, or even under-
ſtood, are made ſubjects of admiration and ſwelling
panegyric. “ Thus," ſays Xenophon,“ died Thraſy-
si bulus ; who indeed appears to have been a good man.”
What valuablé praiſe, and how fignificant to thoſe who
know the ſtory of this admirable perſon! The mem-
bers of thoſe illuſtrious ſtates, from the habit of confi-
dering themfelves as part of a community, or at leaſt
as deeply involved with ſome order of men in the ſtate,
were regardleſs of perſonal conſiderations: they had a
perpetual view to objects which excite a great ardour in
the ſoul ; wlrich led them to act perpetually in the view
of their fellow-citizens, and to practiſe thoſe arts of de-
libcration, elocution, policy, and. war, on which the
fortunes of nations, or of men, in their collective body,
depend. To the force of mind collected in this
career,
and to the improvements of wit which were made in
L2
purſuing
1
4
84
Part 1:
Of Happineſs.
*
purſuing it, theſe nations owed, not only their magna-
nimity, and the ſuperiority of their political and min
fitary conduct, but even the arts of poetry and litera-
ture, which among them were only the inferior ap,
pendages of a genius otherwiſe excited, cultivated, and
refined.
To tiie ancient Greek, or the Roman, the individual
was nothing, and the public every thing. To the mo-
dern, in too many nations of Europe, the individual is
every thing, and the public nothing. The ſtate is merely
a coinbination of departments, in which confideration;
wealth, eminence, or power, are offered as the reward of
ſervice. It was the nature of modern government, even
in its firſt inſtitution; to beſtow on every individual. a
fixed ſtation and dignity, which he was to maintain for
himſelf. Our anceſtors, in rude ages, during the receſs
of wars from abroad, fought for their perſonal claims at
home, and by their competitions, and the balance of
their powers, maintained a kind of political freedom in
the ſtate, while private parties were ſubject to continual
wrongs and oppreſſions. Their poſterity, in times more
poliſhed, have repreſſed the civil diſorders in which the
activity of earlier ages chiefly conſiſted ; but they em-
ploy the calm they have gained, not in foſtering a zeal
for thoſe laws, and that conſtitution of government, to
which they owe their protection, but in practiſing apart,
and each for himſelf, the ſeveral arts of perſonal ad-
vancement, or profit, which their political eſtabliſhments
may enable them to purſue with ſucceſs. Commerce,
which
L
Seeti 8.
Of Happineſs.
85
which may be ſuppoſed to comprehend every lucrative
art, is accordingly conſidered as the great object of na-
tions, and the principal ſtudy of mankind.
!
I
.
A
So much are we accuſtomed to conſider perſonal. for-
tune as the ſole object of care, that even under popular
eſtabliſhments, and in ſtates where different orders of
men are ſummoned to partake in the government of their
country, and where the liberties they enjoy cannot be
long preſerved, without vigilance and activity on the part
of the ſubject ; ftill they, who, in the vulgar. phraſe, have
not their fortunes to make, are fuppoſed to be at a loſs
for occupation, and betake themſelves to ſolitary paſtimes,
or cultivate what they are pleaſed to call a taſte for gar-
dening, building, drawing, or muſic. With this aid, they
endeavour to fill up the blanks of a liſtleſs life, and avoid
the neceſſity of curing their languors by any poſitive fer-
vice to their country, or to mankind.
1
The weak or the malicious are well employed in any
thing that is innocent, and are fortunate in finding
any occupation which prevents the effects of a temper
that would prey upon themſelves, or upon their fellow-
creatures. But they who are bleſſed with a happy dif-
poſition, with capacity and vigour, incur a real de-
bauchery, by having any amuſement that occupies an
improper ſhare of their time; and are really cheated
of their happineſs, in being made to believe, that any
occupation or paftime is better fitted to amuſe them-
felves,
.
86
4
Of National Felicity.
Part I.
1
1
ſelves, than that which at the ſame time produces fome
real good to their fellow-creatures.
THIS ſort of entertainment, indeed, cannot be the
choice of the mercenary, the envious, or the malignant.
Its value is known only to perſons of an oppoſite temper ;
and to their experience alone we appeal. Guided by
mere diſpoſition, and without the aid of reflection, in
buſineſs, in friendſhip, and in public life, they often
acquit themſelves well; and borne with fatisfaction on
the tide of their emotions and ſentiments, enjoy the pre-
ſent hour, without recollection of the paſt, or hopes of
the future. It is in fpeculation, not in practice, they
are made to diſcover, that virtue is a taſk of ſeverity and
felf-denial,
SECT.
IX.
's
1
:
M
Of National Felicity.
AN is, by nature, the member of a community;
and when conſidered in this capacity, the indivi-
dual appears to be no longer made for himſelf. He muſt
forego his happineſs and his freedom, where theſe inter-
fere with the good of fociety. He is only part of a whole ;
and the praiſe we think duc to his virtue, is but a branch
of that more general commendation we beſtow on the
member of a body, on the part of a fabric or engine,
for
4
:
!
Sect. g. Of National Felicity.
87
for being well fitted to occupy its place, and to produce
its effect.
If this follow from the relation of a part to its whole,
and if the public good be a principal object with indivi-
duals, it is likewiſe true, that the happineſs of indivi-
duals is the great end of civil ſociety: for in what ſenſe
can a public enjoy. any good; if its members, conſidered
apart, be unhappy!
mh
The intereſts of ſociety, however, and of its mem-
bers, are eaſily reconciled. If the individual owe every
degree of confideration to the public, he receives, in
pay-
ing that very conſideration, the greateſt happineſs of
which his nature is capable ; and the greateſt bleſſing
that the public can beſtow on its members, is to keep
them attached to itſelf. That is the moſt happy ſtate,
which is moſt beloved by its ſubjects ; and they are the
moſt happy men, whoſe hearts are engaged to a commu-
nity, in which they find every object, of generoſity and
zeal, and a fcope to the exerciſe of every talent, and of
every virtuous diſpoſition.
-
AFTER we have thus found general maxims, the greater
part of our trouble remains, their juſt application to
particular caſes. Nations are different in refpect to their
extent, numbers of people, and wealth ; in reſpect to
the arts they practiſe, and the accommodations they have
procured. Theſe circumſtances may not only affect the
manners of men ; they even, in our eſteein, come into
competition
1
8$
Of National Felicity.
1
Part I,
1
competition with the article of manners itſelf; are ſup-
poſed to conſtitute a national felicity, independent of vir-
tue ; and give a title, upon which we indulge our own
vanity, and that of other nations, as we do that of pri-
vate men, on the ſcore of their fortunes and honours.
But if this way of meaſuring happineſs, when ap-
plied to private men, be ruinous and falſe, it is ſo no leſs
when applied to nations. Wealth, commerce, extent of
territory, and the knowledge of arts, are, when properly
employed, the means of preſervation, and the founda-
tions of power. If they fail in part, the nation is wea-
kened ; if they were entirely with-held, the race would
periſh : their tendency is to maintain numbers of men,
but not to conſtitute happineſs. They will accordingly
maintain the wretched, as well as the happy. They an-
ſwer one purpoſe, but are not therefore ſufficient for all ;
and are of little ſignificance, when only employed to
maintain a timid, dejected, and ſervile people.
GREAT and powerful ſtates are able to overcome and
ſubdue the weak ; poliſhed and commercial nations have
more wealth, and practiſe a greater variety of arts, than
the rude: but the happineſs of men, in all caſes alike,
conſiſts in the bleſſings of a candid, an active, and ſtre-
nuous mind.
And if we conſider the ſtate of ſociety.
merely as that into which mankind are led by their pro-
penſities, as a ſtate to be valued from its effect in preſer-
ving the ſpecies, in ripening their talents, and exciting
their virtues, we need not enlarge our communities, in
.6
order
more
porno
Sect: 9.
89
Of National Felicity.
order to enjoy theſe advantages. We frequently obtain
them in the moſt remarkable degree, where nations ré-
main independent, and are of a ſmall extent.
To increaſe the numbers of mankind, may be admit-
ted as a great and important object: but to extend thé
limits of any particular ſtate, is not, perhaps, the way
to obtain it ; while we deſire that our fellow-creatures
Thould multiply, it does not follow, that the whole ſhould,
if poſſible, be united under one head. We are apt to ad-
mire the empire of the Romans, as a model of national
greatneſs and ſplendour: but the greatneſs we admire in
this caſe, was ruinous to the virtue and the happineſs
of mankind ; it was found to be inconſiſtent with all
the advantages which that conquering, people had for-
merly enjoyed in the articles of government and man-
ners,
.
1
The emulation of nations proceeds from their diviſion.
A cluſter of ſtates, like a company of men, find the ex-
erciſe of their reaſon, and the teſt of thieir virtues, in
the affairs they tranfact, upon a foot of equality, and of
ſeparate intereſt. The meaſures tåken for ſafety, including
great part of the national policy, aře relative in every ſtate
to what is apprehended from abroad., Athens was necef-
fary to Sparta, in the exerciſe of her Virtue, as ſteel is to flint
in the production of fire ; and if the cities of Greece had
been united under one head, we ſhould never have heard
of Epaminondas or Thraſybulus, of Lycurgus or Sólon.
M
WHEN
11
90
Of National Felicity.
Part I.
When we reaſon in behalf of our ſpecies, therefore,
although we may lament the abuſes which ſometimes
ariſe from independence, and oppoſition of intereſt; yet,
whilſt any degrees of virtue remain with mankind, we
cannot wiſh to croud under one eſtabliſhment, numbers
of men who may ſerve to conſtitute ſeveral ; or to com-
mit affairs to the conduct of one ſenate, one legiſlative or
executive power, which, upon a diſtinct and ſeparate foot-
ing, might furniſh an exerciſe of ability, and a theatre of
glory, to many.
1
This may be a ſubject upon which no determinate
rule can be given, but the admiration of boundleſs domi-
nion is a ruinous error; and in no inſtance, perhaps, is
the real intereſt of mankind more entirely miſtaken.
The meaſure of enlargement to be wiſhed for any
particular ſtate, is often to be taken from the condition
of its neighbours. Where a number of ſtates are conti-
guous, they ſhould be near an equality, in order that they
may be mutually objects of reſpect and confideration,
and in order that they may poſſeſs that independence in
which the political life of a nation conſiſts.
.
When the kingdoms of Spain were united, when the
great fiefs in France were annexed to the crown, it was no
longer expedient for the nations of Great Britain to con-
tinue disjoined
{
1
THE
Sect. 9.
+
Of National Felicity.
91
The ſmall republics of Greece, indeed, by their ſubdi-
viſions, and the balance of their power, found almoſt in
every village the object of nations. Every little diſtrict
was a nurſery of excellent men, and what is now the
wretched corner of a great empire, was the field on which
mankind have reaped their principal honours. But in
modern Europe, republics of a ſimilar extent, are like
ſhrubs, under the ſhade of a taller wood, choaked by the
neighbourhood of more powerful ſtates. In their caſe, a
certain diſproportion of force fruſtrates, in a great mea-
ſure, the advantage of ſeparation. They are like the trader
in Poland, who is the more deſpicable, and the leſs ſecure,
that he is neither maſter nor flave.
*
INDEPENDENT communities, in the mean time, however
weak, are averſe to a coalition, not only where it comes
with an air of impoſition, or unequal treaty, but even
where it implies no more than the admiſſion of new mem-
bers to an equal ſhare of confideration with the old. The
citizen has.no intereſt in the annexation of kingdoms ;
hè muſt find his importance diminiſhed, as the ſtate is
enlarged: but ambitious men, under the enlargement of
territory, find a more plentiful harveſt of power, and
of wealth, while government itſelf is an eaſier taſk.
Hence the ruinous progreſs of empires and hence free
nations, under the ſhew of acquiring dominion, ſuffer
themſelves, in the end, to be yoked with the flaves they
had conquered.
M ?
OUR
92
Of National Felicity.
Part I.
Our deſire to augment the force of a nation is the
only pretext for enlarging its territory ; but this mea-
ſure, when purſued to extremes, ſeldom fails to fruſtratě
itſelf.
NOTWITHSTANDING the advantage of numbers, and
ſuperior reſources in war, the ſtrength of a nation is
derived from the character, not from the wealth, nor
from the multitude of its people. If the treaſure of a
ſtate can hire numbers of men, erect ramparts, and fur-
niſh the implements of war; the poſſeſſions of the fearful
are eaſily ſeized ; a timorous multitude falls into rout
of itſelf ; ramparts may be ſcaled where they are not
defended by valour ; and arms are of conſequence only
in the hands of the brave. The band to which Ageſilaus
pointed as the wall of his city, made a defence for their
country more permanent, and more effectual, than the
rock and the cement with which other cities were
fortified.
1
We ſhould owe little to that ſtateſman who were to
contrive a defence that might ſuperſede the external uſes
of virtue. It is wiſely ordered for man, as a rational
being, that the employment of reaſon is neceſſary to his
preſervation: it is fortunate for liïm, in the purſuit of
diſtinction, that his perſonal conſideration depends on his
character; and it is fortunate for nations, that, in order
to be powerful and ſafe, they muſt ſtrive to maintain
the courage, and cultivate the virtues, of their people.
By the uſe of ſuch means, they at once gain their ex-
ternal ends, and are happy.
РЕА СЕ
1
A
Sect. g.
Of National Felicity.
93
Peace and unanimity are commonly conſidered as the
principal foundations of public felicity; yet the rival-
ſhip of ſeparate communities, and the agitations of a
free people, are the principles of political life, and the
ſchool of men. How ſhall we reconcile theſe jarring and
oppoſite tenets ? It is, perhaps, not neceſſary to recon-
cile them. The pacific may do what they can to allay
the animofities, and to reconcile the opinions, of men;
and it will be happy if they can fucceed in repreſſing
their crimes, and in calming the worſt of their paſſions.
Nothing, in the mean time, but corruption or ſlavery
can ſuppreſs the debates that ſubfift. among men of in-
tegrity, who bear an equal part in the adminiſtration of
ftate,
A perfect agreement in matters of opinion is not to be
obtained in the moſt ſelect company ; and if it were,
what would become of ſociety ? “ The Spartan legif-
« lator,” ſays Plutarch, "appears to have ſown the feeds
66 of variance and diffenfion among his countrymen:
"
- he meant that good citizens fhould be led to diſpute ;
" he conſidered emulation as the brand by which their
-* virtues were kindled; and feemed to apprehend, ithat
a complaiſance, by 'which men fubmit their opinions
**s without examination, is a principal ſource of corrup-
'
-66 tion,"
Forms of government are ſuppoſed to decide of the
- Inappineſs or miſery of 'mankind. But forms of .go-
vernment muſt be varied, in order to ſuit the extent,
8
the
94
Of National Felicity. Part I.
1
the way of ſubſiſtence, the character, and the manners
of different nations. In ſome caſes, the multitude may
be ſuffered to govern themſelves ; in others, they muſt
be feverely reſtrained. The inhabitants of a village in
ſome primitive age, may have been ſafely intruſted to
the conduct of reaſon, and to the ſuggeſtion of their
innocent views ; but the tenants of Newgate can ſcarcely
be truſted, with chains locked to their bodies, and bars
of iron fixed to their legs. How is it poſſible, therefore,
to find any ſingle form of government that would ſuit
mankind in every condition ?
We proceed, however, in the following ſection, to point
out the diſtinctions, and to explain the language which
occurs in this place, on the head of different models for
ſubordination and government.
L
SECT.
X.
The ſame ſubject continued.
I
T is a common obſervation, That mankind were origi-
nally equal. They have indeed by nature equal
rights to their preſervation, and to the uſe of their ta-
lents ; but they are fitted for different 'ftations; and
when they are claſſed by a rule taken from this circum-
ſtance, they ſuffer no injuſtice on the ſide of their na-
tural rights. It is obvious, that ſome mode of ſubor-
dination
P
Sect. IO.
Of National Felicity.
95
dination is as neceſſary to men as ſociety itſelf; and
this, not only to attain the ends of government, but to
comply with an order eſtabliſhed by nature.
PRIOR to any political inſtitution whatever, men are
qualified by a great diverſity of talents, by a different
tone of the ſoul, and ardour of the paſſions, to act a va-
riety of parts. Bring them together, each will find his
place. They cenſure or applaud in a body; they con-
fult and deliberate in more ſelect parties; they take or
give an aſcendant as individuals; and numbers are by
this means fitted to act in company, and to preſerve their
communities, before any formal diſtribution of office is
made.
We are formed to act in this manner; and if we
have any doubts with relation to the rights of govern-
ment in general, we owe our perplexity more to the ſub-
tilties of the ſpeculative, than to any uncertainty in the
feelings of the heart. Involved in the reſolutions of our
company, we move with the croud before we have de-
termined the rule by which its will is collected.
collected. We
follow a leader, before we have fertled the ground of
his pretenſions, or adjuſted the form of his election :
and it is not till after mankind have committed many
errors in the capacities of magiſtrate and ſubject, that
they think of making government itſelf a ſubject of rules.
1
4
If therefore, in conſidering the variety of forms un
der which focieties: fubýft, the caſuiſt is pleaſed to in
quire,
::
.
96
Part I.
Of National Felicity. .
quire, What title one man, or any number of men, have
to controul his actions ? he may be anfwered, None at
all, provided that his actions have no effect to the
pre-
judice of his fellow-creatures ; but if they have, the
rights of defence, and the obligation to reprefs the com-
miſſion of wrongs, belong to •collective bodies, as well
as to individuals. Many rude nations, having no formal
tribunals for the judgment of crimes, aſſemble, when
alarmed by any flagrant offence, and take their mea-
fures with the criminal as they would with an enemy.
But will this conſideration, which confirms the title
to ſovereignty, where it is exerciſed by the ſociety in its
collective capacity, or by thoſe to whom the powers of
the wliole are committed, likewiſe ſupport the claim to
dominion, where-ever it is caſually lodged, or even where
it is only maintained by force?
1
This queſtion may be ſufficiently anſwered, by obſer-
ving, that a right to do juſtice, and to do good, is com-
petent to every individual, or order of men'; and that
the exerciſe of this right has no limits but in the defect
of power. But a right to do wrong, or to commit in-
juſtice, is an abuſe of language, and a contradiction in
It is no more competent to the collective body
of a people, than it is to any ſingle uſurper. When we
admit ſuch a prerogative in the caſe of any ſovereign,
we can only mean to expreſs the extent of his power,
and the force with which he is enabled to execute his
pleaſure. Such a prerogative is aſſumed by the leader
of
terms.
1
1
97
Sect. 10.
Of National Felicity
of banditti at the head of his gang, or by a deſpotic
prince at the head of his troops. When the ſword is
preſented by either, the traveller or the inhabitant may
fubmit from a ſenſe of neceſſity or fear ; but he lies
under no obligation from a motive of duty or juſtice.
+
The multiplicity of forms, in the mean time, which
different ſocieties offer to our view, is almoſt infinite.
The claſſes into which they diſtribute their members,
the manner in which they eſtabliſh the legiſlative and
executive powers, the imperceptible circumſtances by
which they are led to have different cuſtoms, and to
confer on their governors unequal meaſures of power
and authority, give riſe to perpetual diſtinctions between
conftitutions the moſt nearly reſembling each other, and
give to human affairs a variety in detail, which, in its
full extent, no underſtanding can comprehend, and no
memory retain.
In order to have a general and comprehenſive know-
ledge of the whole, we muſt be determined on this, as
on every other ſubject, to overlook many particulars
and fingularities, diſtinguiſhing different governments ;
to fix our attention on certain points, in which many
agree; and thereby eſtabliſh a few general heads, under
which the ſubject may be diſtinctly conſidered. When
we have marked the characteriſtics which form the
general points of coincidence ; when we have purſued
them to their conſequences in the ſeveral modes of le-
N
giſlation,
화
​1
98
Part I.
Of National Felicity.
giflation, execution, and judicature, in the eſtabliſh-
ments which relate to police, commerce, religion, or
domeſtic life; we have made an acquiſition of know-
lcgc, which, though it does not ſuperſede the neceſſity
of experience, may ſerve to direct our inquiries, and, in
the midſt of affairs, to give an order and a method for
the arrangement of particulars that occur to our obfer-
vation.
.
When I recollect what the Preſident Monteſquieu has
written, I am at a loſs to tell, why I ſhould treat of hu-
man affairs : but I too am inſtigated by my reflections,
and my ſentiments; and I may utter them more to the
comprehenſion of ordinary capacities, becauſe I am more
on the level of ordinary men. If it be neceſſary to pave
the
way
for what follows on the general hiſtory of nations
by giving fome account of the heads under which various
forms of government may be conveniently ranged, the
reader ſhould perhaps be referred to what has been al-
rcady delivered on the ſubject by this profound politician
and amiable moraliſt. In his writings will be found, not
only the original of what I am now, for the ſake of order,
to copy from him, but likewiſe probably the ſource of
many obſervations, which, in different places, I may, un-
der the belief of invention, have repcated, without quot-
ing their author.
The ancient philoſophers treated of government com-
monly under three heads; the Democratic, the Ariſto-
cratic,
1
Sect. 1o.
Of National Felicity.
99
cratic, and the Deſpotic. Their attention was chieily.
occupied with the varieties of a republican government;
and they paid little regard to a very important diſtinc-
tion, which Mr. Monteſquicu has made, between defpo-
tiſm and monarchy. He too has conſidered government
as reducible to three general forms ; and,“ to under-
“ ſtand the nature of each," he obſerves, “ it is ſuffici-
ent to recal ideas which are familiar with men of
"the leaſt reflection, who admit three definitions, or ra-
" ther three facts: That a republic is a ſtate in which
“ the people in a collective body, or a part of the people,
“ poſſeſs the ſovereign power : That monarchy is that
" in which one man governs, according to fixed and de-
" terminate laws: And a deſpotiſm is that in which one
man, without law, or rule of adminiſtration, by the
“ mere impulſe of will or caprice, decides and carries
every thing before him."
i
1
REPUBLICS admit of a very material diſtinction, which
is pointed out in the general definition ; that between
democracy and ariſtocracy. In the firſt, ſupreme power
remains in the hands of the collective body. Every office
of magiftracy, at the nomination of this ſovereign, is
open to every citizen ; who, in the diſcharge of his duty,
becomes the miniſter of the people, and accountable to
them for every object of his truſt.
1
In the ſecond, thc ſovereignty is lodged in a particu-
lar claſs, or order of men ; who, being once named, con-
tinuc
N 2
тоо
Part I.
Of National Felicity.
tinue for life ; or by the hereditary diſtinctions of birth
and fortune, are advanced to a ſtation of permanent ſu-
periority. From this order, and by their nomination, all
the offices of magiſtracy are filled ; and in the different
aſſemblies which they conſtitute, whatever relates to the
legiſlation, the execution, or juriſdiction, is finally deter-
mined.
MR. Monteſquieu has pointed out the ſentiments or
maxims from which men muſt be ſuppoſed to act under
theſe different governments.
1
In democracy, they muſt love equality; they muſt re-
ſpect the rights of their fellow-citizens ; they muſt unite
by the common ties of affection to the ſtate. In forming
perſonal pretenſions, they muſt be ſatisfied with that de-
gree of confideration they can procure by their abilities.
fairly meaſured with thoſe of an opponent; they muſt
labour for the public without lope of profit ; they muſt:
reject every attempt to create a perſonal dependence.
Candour, force, and elevation of mind, in ſhort, are the
props of democracy; and virtue is the principle of con-
duct required to its preſervation.
How beautiful a pre-eminence on the ſide of popular.
government ! and how ardently ſhould mankind with
for the form, if it tended to eſtabliſh the principle, or.
were, in every inſtance,
every inſtance, a ſure indication of its pre-
fence!
BUT
IOI
Sect. 10. Of National Felicity:
But perliaps we muſt have poſſeſſed the principle;
in order, with any hopes of advantage, to receive the
form ; and where the firſt is entirely extinguiſhed, the
other may be fraught with evil, if any additional evil
deſerves to be ſhunned where men are already unhappy.
1
+
At Conftantinople, or Algiers, it is a miſerable ſpec-
tacle when men pretend to act on a foot of equality: they
only mean to ſhake off the reſtraints of government, and
to ſeize as much as they can of that fpoil, which, in or--
dinary times, is ingroſſed by the maſter they ſerve.
ma
It is one advantage of democracy, that the principal
ground of diſtinction being perſonal qualities, men are
claſſed according to their abilities, and to the merit
of their actions. Though all' have equal pretenſions to
power, yet the ſtate is actually governed by a few:
The majority of the people, even in their capacity of
ſovereign, only pretend to employ their ſenſes ; to feely.
when preſſed by national inconveniencies, or threatened
by public dangers ;. and with the ardour which is app:
to ariſe in crouded aſſemblies, to urge the purſuits in
which they are engaged, or to repel the attacks with
which they are menaced.
r
The moſt perfect equality of rights can never exclude
tlie aſcendant of fuperior minds, nor the aſſemblies of
a, collective body, govern without the direction of fe-.
leet.
in
+
3
1
IC 2
Part I.
Of National Felicity.
.
re
+
lect councils. On this account, popular government
may be confounded with ariſtocracy.' But this alone
does not conſtitute the character of ariſtocratical govern-
mcnt. I-Icre the members of the ſtate are divided, at
leaft, into two claſſes ; of which one is deſtined to com-
mand, the other to obey. No merits or defects can raiſe
or ſink a perſon from one claſs to the other. The only
eſlcct of perſonal character is, to procure the individual
a ſuitable degree of conſideration with his own order, not
to vary his rank.
his rank. In one ſituation he is taught to aſſume,
in another to yield the pre-eminence. He occupies the
ſtation of patron or client, and is either the ſovereign or
the ſubject of his country. The whole citizens may unite
in executing the plans of ſtate, but never in deliberating
on its meaſures, or enacting its laws. What belongs to
the whole people under democracy, is here confined to a
part. Members of the ſuperior order, are among them-
ſelves, poſſibly, claſſed according to their abilities, but
retain a perpetual aſcendant over thoſe of inferior ſtation.
They are at once the ſervants and the maſters of the
ſtate, and pay with their perſonal attendance and with
their blood for the civil or military honours they enjoy.
To maintain for himſelf, and to admit in his fellow-
citizen, a perfect equality of privilege and ſtation, is no
longer the leading maxim of the member of ſuch a com-
munity. The rights of men are modified by their condi-
tion. One order claims more than it is willing to yield;
the
1
1
Sect. 10.
Of National Felicity.
IO3
-
the other muſt be ready to yield what it does not aſſume
to itſelf: and it is with good reaſon that Mr. Monteſ-
quieu gives to the principle of ſuch governments the
name of moderation, not of virtue.
The elevation of one claſs is a moderated arrogance';
the ſubmiſſion of the other a limited deference. The firſt
muſt be careful, by concealing the invidious part of their
diſtinction, to palliate what is grievous in the public ar-
rangement, and by their education, their cultivated man-
ners, and improved talents, to appear qualified for thie
ftations they occupy.
The other muſt be taught to
yield, from reſpect and perſonal attachment, what could
not otherwiſe be extorted by force. When this modera-
tion fails on either ſide, the conſtitution totters,
pulace. enraged to mutiny, may claim the right of
cquality to which they are admitted in democratical
ſtates; or a nobility bent on dominion, may chiuſe among
themſelves, or find already. pointed out to thiem, a fove-
rcign, who, by advantages of fortune, popularity, or
abilities, is ready to ſeize for his own family, that en-
vicd power, which has already carried liis order beyond
the limits of moderation, and infected particular men.
with a boundlcís ambition..
A po-
1
1
MOXARCHIES have accordingly been found with tlie
recent marks of ariſtocracy. There, however, the mo-
narch is only the firſt anong the nobles ; he muſt be fa-
tisfied with a limited power ; his ſubjects are ranged into
claſes ; he finds on every quarter a pretence 10 privi-
lege,
1
}
&
A
104
Of National Felicity.
Part T.
lege, that circumſcribes his authority“; and he finds a
force ſufficient to confine his adminiſtration within cer-
tain bounds of equity, and determinate laws.
Under ſuch governments, however, the love of equa-
lity is prepoſterous, and moderation itſelf is unneceſſary.
The object of every rank is precedency, and every order
may diſplay its advantages to their full extent. The ſo-
vercign himſelf owes great part of his authority to the
founding titles and the dazzling equipage which he exhi-
bits in public. The ſubordinate ranks lay claim to im-
portance by a like exhibition, and for that purpoſe carry
in every inftant the enſigns of their birth, or the orna-
ments of their fortune. What elſe could mark out to the
individual the relation in which he ſtands to his fellow-
ſubjects, or diſtinguiſh the numberleſs ranks that fill up
the interval between the ſtate of the ſovereign and that of
the peaſant? Or what elſe could, in ſtates of a great ex-
tent, preſerve any appearance of order, among members
diſunited by ambition and intereſt, and deſtined to form
a community, without the ſenſe of any common con-
.:
cern
MONARCHIES are generally found, where the ſtate is
enlarged in population and in territory, beyond the num-
bers and dimenſions that are conſiſtent withì republican
government. Together with theſe circumſtances, great
inequalities ariſe in the diſtribution of property ; and the
defire of pre-eminence becomes the predominant paſſion.
Every rank would exerciſe its prerogative, and the ſove-
reign
n.
3
11
1
Sect. 10. Of National Felicity.
105
reign is perpetually tempted to enlarge his own ; if ſub-
jects, who deſpair of precedence, plead for equality, he
is willing to favour their claims, and to aid them in pro-
curing what muſt weaken a force, with which he him-
ſelf is, on many occaſions, obliged to contend: In the
event of ſuch a policy, many invidious diſtinctions and
grievances peculiar to monarchical government, may, in
appearance, be removed; but the ſtate of equality to
which the ſubjects approach, is that of llaves, equally.
dependent on the will of a maſter, not that of freemen
in a condition to maintain their own,
The principle of monarchy, according to Monteſquieu,
is honour. Men may poſſeſs good qualities, elevation of
mind, and fortitude; but the ſenſe of equality, that will
bear no incroachment on the perſonal rights of the
meaneſt citizen; the indignant ſpirit, that will not court a
protection, nor. accept as a favour, what is due as a
right-; the public affection, which is founded on the ne-
glect of perſonal conſiderations, are neither conſiſtent with
the preſervation of the conſtitution, nor agreeable to the
habits acquired in any ſtation aſſigned to its members.
2
Every condition is poſſeſſed of peculiar dignity, and
points out a propriety of conduct, which men of ſtation
are obliged to maintain. In the commerce of ſuperiors
and inferiors, it is the object of ambition, and of vani-
ty, to refine on the advantages of rank; while, to facili-
o
tate
i
106
1
Part I.
of National Felicity.
1
1
1
+
tate the intercourſe of polite ſociety, it is the aim of good
breeding, to diſguiſe or reject them.
Though the objects of confideration are rather the
dignities of ſtation than perſonal qualities; though friend-
ſhip cannot be formed by mere inclination, nor alliances
by the mere choice of the heart ; yet men ſo united, and
even without changing their order, are highly ſuſcepti-
ble of moral excellence, or liable to many different degrees
of corruption. They may act a vigorous part as mem-
bers of the ſtate, an amiable one in the commerce of
private ſociety; or they may yield up their dignity as citi-
zens, even while they raiſe their arrogance and preſump-
tion as private parties. .
In monarchy, all orders of men derive their honours
from the crown; but they continue to hold them as a
right, and they exerciſe a ſubordinate power in the ffate,
founded on the permanent rank they enjoy, and on the
attachment of thoſe whom they are appointed to lead and
protect. Though they do not force theṁſelves into na-
tional councils, and public affemblies, and though the
name of ſenate is unknown; yet the ſentiments they
adopt muſt have weight with the ſovereign ; and every
individual, in his feparate capacity, in ſome meaſure, de-
liberates for his country. In whatever does not derogate
from his rank, he has an arm ready to ſerve the com-
munity ; in whatever alarms his. ſenſe of honour, he has
averſions and diffikes, which amount to a negative on the
will of his prince.
5
A
1
I
INTANGLED
1
5
1
Sect. 1o. Of National Felicity.
107
INTANGLED together by the reciprocal ties of depen-
dence and protection, though not combined by the ſenſe
of a common intereſt, the ſubjects of monarchy, like
thoſe of republics, find themſelves occupied as the mem-
bers of an active ſociety, and engaged to treat with their
fellow-creatures on a liberal footing. If thoſe principles
of honour which ſave the individual from ſervility in
his own perſon, or from becoming an engine of opprei-
ſion in the hands of another, ſhould fail; if they thould
give way to the maxims of commerce, to the refinements
of a Tuppoſed philoſophy, or to the miſplaced ardours of
a republican ſpirit; if they are betrayed by the cowardice
of ſubjects, or ſubdued by the ambition of princes; what
muſt become of the nations of Europe ?
f
{
DESPOTISM is monarchy corrupted, in which a court and
a prince in appearance remain, but in which every ſubor-
dinate rank is deſtroyed ; in which the ſubject is told, that
he has no rights ; that he cannot poſſeſs any property, nor
fill any ſtation, independent of the momentary will of his
prince. Theſe doctrines are founded on the maxims of
conqueſt; they muſt be inculcated with the whip and the
ſword; and are beſt received under the terror of chains
and impriſonment. Fear, therefore, is the principle
which qualifies the ſubject to occupy his fation : and
the fovereign, who holds out the enſigns of terror fo
freely to others, has abundant reaſon to give this paſſion
a principal place with himſelf. That tenure which he has
deviſed for the rights of others, is ſoon applied to his
own ; and from his eager deſire to ſecure, or to extend,
02
his
1
.
1
108
Part T.
Of National Felicity.
his. power, he-finds it become, like the fortunes of his
people, a creature of mere imagination and unſettled ca-
price.
+
Whilst we thus, with ſo much accuracy, can aſſign
the ideal limits that may, diſtinguiſhi conſtitutions of go-
vernment, we find them, in reality, both in reſpect to the
principle and the form, variouſly blended togetlier: In
what ſociety are not men claſſed by external diſtinctions,
as well as perſonal qualities? In what ſtate are they not
actuated by a variety of principles ; juſtice, honour, mo-
deration, and fear? It is the purpoſe of ſcience, not to dif-
guiſe this confuſion in its object, but, in the multiplicity
and combination of particulars, to find the principal points
which deſerve our attention, and which, being well, un-
derſtood, ſave us from the embarraſſment which the va-
rieties of fingular caſes might otherwiſe create. In the
ſame degree in which governments require men to act
from principles.of. virtue, of honour, or of fear,, they are
more or leſs fully compriſed under the heads of republic,
monarchy, or deſpotiſm, and the general theory is more.
or leſs applicable to their particular caſe.
FORMS of government, in fact, mutually approach or
recede by many, and often inſenſible. gradations. Demo-.
gracy, by admitting certain inequalities of rank, ap-
proaches to ariſtocracy. In popular, as well as ariſtocra-
tiçal governments, particular men, by their perſonal au--
thority, and ſometimes by the credit of their family,
have:
1
/
Sceti 10.
Of National Felicity.
109
have maintained a ſpecies of monarchical power. The
monarch is limited in different degrees : even the deſpo-
tic prince is only that monarch whoſe ſubjects claim the
feweſt privileges, or who is himſelf beſt prepared to ſub-
due them by force. All theſe varieties are but ſteps in
the hiſtory of mankind, and mark the fleeting and tran-
fient ſituations through which they have paſſed, while
ſupported by virtue, or depreſſed by vice.
*
1
PERFECT democracy and deſpotiſm appear to be the
oppoſite extremes to which conſtitutions of government
are ſometimes carried. Under the firſt, a perfect virtue is
required ; under the ſecond, a total corruption is ſuppoſed:
yet in point of mere form, there being nothing fixed in
the ranks and diſtinctions of men, beyond the caſual and
temporary poſſeſſion of power, ſocieties eaſily paſs from
a condition in which every individual has an equal title
to reign, into one in which they are equally deſtined to
ferve. The ſame qualities in both, courage, popularity;
addreſs, and military conduct, raiſe the ambitious to emi
nence.
With theſe qualities, the citizen or the ſlave.
eaſily paſſes from the ranks to the command of an army,
from an obſcure to an illuſtrious ſtation. In: either, a
ſingle perſon may rule with unlimited ſway'; and in both;
the populacë may break down every. barrier of order,
and reſtraint of law:
If we ſuppoſe. that the equality eſtabliſhed among the
fübjects of a deſpotic ſtate, has inſpired its members with:,,
confidence, intrepidity, and the love of juſtice; the de--
ſpotic:
IIO
· Of National Felicity. 1
I
Part I.
ſpotic prince, having ceaſed to be an object of fear, muſt
fink among the croud. If, on the contrary, the perſonal
equality which is enjoyed by the members of a demo-
cratical ſtate, ſhould be valued merely as an equal pre-
tenſion to the objects of avarice and ambition, the mo-
narch may ſtart up anew, and be ſupported by thoſe
who mean to ſhare in his profits. When the covetous
and mercenary. aſſemble in parties, it is of no con-
ſequence under what leader they inliſt, whether Cæ-
far or Pompey ; the hopes of rapine or power are the
only motives from which they become attached to
either.
+
In the diſorder of corrupted ſocieties, the ſcene has
been frequently changed from democracy to deſpotiſm,
and from the laſt too, in its turn, to the firſt. From amidſt
the democracy of corrupt men, and from a ſcene of law-
leſs confuſion, the tyrant aſcends a throne with arms
reeking in blood. But his abuſes, or his weakneſſes, in
the ſtation he has gained, in their turn, awaken and give
way to the ſpirit of mutiny and revenge. The cries of
murder and deſolation, which in the ordinary courſe of
military government terrified the ſubject in his private
retreat, are carried through the vaults, and made to
pierce the grates and iron doors of the ſeraglio. Demo-
cracy ſeems to revive in a ſcene of wild diſorder and tu-
mult: but both the extremes are but the tranſient fits of
paroxyſm or languor in a diſtempered ſtate.
1
IE
A
}
1
III
Sect. io. Of National Felicity.
IF men be any where arrived at this meaſure of depra-
vity, there appears no immediate hope of redreſs. Nei-
ther the aſcendency of the multitude, nor that of the ty
rant, will ſecure the adminiſtration of juſtice: neither the
licence of mere tumult, nor the calm of dejection and
ſervitude, will teach the citizen that he was born for can-
dour and affection to his fellow-creatures. And if the
ſpeculative would find that habitual ſtate of war which
they are ſometimes pleaſed to honour with the name of
the ſtate of nature, they will find it in the conteſt that fub-
fiſts between the deſpotical prince and his ſubjects, not in
the firſt approaches of a rude and ſimple tribe to the con-
dition and the domeſtic arrangement of nations.
1
This
.
.
1
1
112
Part II.
Of the Informations
1
7
PART SECO N D.
T
of the Hiſtory of Rude Nations.
*****
*********
S E C T.
I.
A
Of the Informations on this ſubject which are derived
from Antiquity.
T!
4
HE hiſtory of mankind is confined within a limited
period, and from every quarter brings an intima-
tion that human affairs have had a beginning. Nations,
diſtinguiſhed by the poſſeſſion of arts, and the felicity of
their political eſtabliſhments, have been derived from a
feeble original, and ſtill preſerve in their ſtory the indi-
cations of a flow and gradual progreſs, by which this
diſtinction was gained. The antiquities of every people,
however diverſified, and however diſguiſed, contain the
fame information on this point.
In facred hiſtory, we find the parents of the ſpecies,
as yet a ſingle pair, ſent forth to inherit the earth, and
to
1
Sect. I.
derived from Antiquity.
113
to force a ſubſiſtence for themſelves amidſt the briers
and thorns which were made to abound on its ſurface.
Their race, which was again reduced to a few, had to
ſtruggle with the dangers that await a weak and infant
fpecies; and after many ages elapſed, the moſt reſpecta-
ble nations took their riſe from one or a few families that
had paſtured their flocks in the deſert.
!
!
THE Grecians derive their own origin from unſettled
tribes, whoſe frequent migrations are a proof of the
rude and infant ſtate of their communities; and whoſe
warlike exploits, ſo much celebrated in ftory, only ex-
hibit the ſtruggles with which they diſputed the poſſef-
fion of a country they afterwards, by their talent for
fable, by their arts, and their policy, rendered ſo famous
in the hiſtory of mankind.
1
!
are
ITALY muſt have been divided into many rude and
feeble cantons, when a band of robbers, as we
taught to conſider them, found a ſecure ſettlement on
the banks of the Tiber, and when a people, yet compo-
ſed only of one ſex, ſuſtained the character of a nation.
Rome, for many ages, faw, from her walls, on every
ſide, the territory of her enemies, and found as little to
check or to ſtifle the weakneſs of her infant power, as
ſhe did afterwards to reſtrain the progreſs of her extended
empire. Like a Tartar or a Scythian horde, which had
pitched on a ſettlement, this naſcent community was
equal, if not fuperior, to every tribe in its neighbour-
hood; and the oak which has covered the field with
P
its
0
*
114
Part II.
of the Informations
its ſhade, was once a feeble plant in the nurſery, and
not to be diſtinguiſhed from the weeds by which its early
growth was reſtrained.
The Gauls and the Germans are come to our know-
lodge with the marks of a ſimilar condition ; and the in-
habitants of Britain, at the time of the firſt Roman in-
vaſions, reſembled, in many things, the preſent natives
of North America : they were ignorant of agriculture;
they painted their bodies; and uſed for cloathing, the
ſkins of beaſts.
1
Such therefore appears to have been the commence-
ment of hiſtory with all nations, and in ſuch circumſtan-
ces are we to look for the original character of mankind.
The inquiry refers to a diſtant period, and every con-
cluſion ſhould build on the facts which are preſerved
for our uſe. Our method, notwithſtanding, too frequent-
ly, is to reſt the whole on conjecture ; to impute every
advantage of our nature to thoſe arts which we our-
ſelves poſſeſs ; and to imagine, that a mere negation
of all our virtues is a ſufficient deſcription of man in his
original ſtate. We are ourſelves the ſuppoſed ſtandards
of politeneſs and civilization ; and where our own fea-
tures do not appear, we apprehend, that there is nothing
which deſerves to be known. But it is probable that
here, as in many other caſes, we are ill qualified, from
our ſuppoſed knowledge of cauſes, to prognoſticate effects,
or to determine what muſt have been the properties and
operations, even of our own nature, in the abſence of
thoſe
115
Sect. I. derived from Antiquity.
thoſe circumſtances in which we have ſeen it engaged.
Who would, from mere conjecture, ſuppoſe, that the
naked ſavage would be a coxcomb and a gameſter? that
he would be proud and vain, without the diſtinctions of
title and fortune? and that his principal care would be
to adorn his perſon, and to find an amuſement? Even
if it could be ſuppoſed that he would thus ſhare in our
vices, and, in the midſt of his foreſt, vie with the follies
which are practiſed in the town; yet no one would be
ſo bold as to affirm, that he would likewiſe, in any in-
ſtance, excel us in talents and virtues ; that he would
have a penetration, a force of imagination and elocution,
an ardour of mind, an affection and courage, which the
arts, the diſcipline, and the policy of few nations would
be able to improve. Yet theſe particulars are a part in
the deſcription which is delivered by thoſe who have had
opportunities of ſeeing mankind in their rudeſt condi-
tion: and beyond the reach of ſuch teſtimony, we can-
neither ſafely take, nor pretend to give, information on
the ſubject.
IF conjectures and opinions formed at a diſtance, have
not ſufficient authority in the hiſtory of mankind, the
domeſtic antiquities of every nation muſt, for this very
reaſon, be received with caution. They are, for moſt
part,
the mere conjectures or the fictions of ſubſequent ages;
and even where at firſt they contained ſome reſemblance
of truth, they ſtill vary with the imagination of thoſe
by whom they are tranſmitted, and in every generation
receive a different form. They are made to bear the
ſtamp
j
P2
ܪ
116
Part H.
Of the Informations
1
1
ſtamp of the times through which they have paſſed in the
form of tradition, not of the ages to which their pre-
tended deſcriptions relate. The information they bring,
is not like the light reflected from a mirrour, which de-
lineates the object from which it originally came; but,
like rays that come broken and diſperſed from an opaque
or unpoliſhed ſurface, only give the colours and features
of the body from which they were laſt reflected.
When traditionary fables are rehearſed by the vul-
gar, they bear the marks of a national character ; and
though mixed with abſurdities, often raiſe the imagina-
tion, and move the heart: when made the materials of
poetry, and adorned by the ſkill and the eloquence of
an ardent and ſuperior mind, they inſtruct the under-
ſtanding, as well as engage the paſſions. It is only in
the management of mere antiquaries, or ſtript of the
ornaments which the laws of hiſtory forbid them to wear,
that they become even unfit to amuſe the fancy, or to
ſerve any purpoſe whatever.
.
1
+
I
It were abſurd to quote the fable of the Iliad or the
Odyſſey, the legends of Hercules, Theſeus, or OEdipus,
as authorities in matter of fact relating to the hiſtory of
mankind; but they may, with great juſtice, be cited
to aſcertain what were the conceptions and ſentiments
of the age in which they were compoſed, or to charac-
tcriſe the genius of that people, with whoſe imagina-
tions
1
1
Sect. I.
derived froin Antiquity.
117
tions they were blended, and by whom they were fondly
rehearſed and admired.
In this manner fiction may be admitted to vouch for
the genius of nations, while hiſtory has nothing to offer
that is intitled to credit. The Greek fable accordingly
conveying a character of its authors, throws light on
ſome ages of which no other record remains. The ſupe-
riority of this people is indeed in no circumſtance more
evident than in the ſtrain of their fictions, and in the
ſtory of thoſe fabulous heroes, poets, and ſages, whoſe
tales, being invented or embelliſhed by an imagination
already filled with the ſubject for which the hero was
celebrated, ſerved to inflame that ardent enthuſiaſm with
which ſo many different republics afterwards proceeded
in the purſuit of every national object.
It was no doubt of great advantage to thoſe nations,
that their ſyſtem of fable was original, and being al-
ready received in popular traditions, ſerved to diffufe
thoſe improvements of reaſon, imagination, and fenti-
ment, which were afterwards, by men of the fineſt ta-
lents, made on the fable itſelf, or conveyed in its mo-
ral. The paſſions of the poet pervaded the minds of the
people, and the conceptions of men of genius being
communicated to the vulgar, became the incentives of a
national fpirit.
+
A mythology borrowed from abroad, a literature
founded on references to a ſtrange country, and fraught
with
1
}
118
Part II.
of the Informations
with foreign alluſions, are much more confined in their
uſe: they ſpeak to the learned alone; and though in-
tended to inform the underſtanding, and to mend the
heart, may, by being confined to a few, have an oppo-
ſite effect : they may foſter conceit on the ruins of com-
mon ſenſe, and render what was, at leaſt innocently, fung
by the Athenian mariner at his oar, or rehearſed by the
Thepherd in attending his flock, an occaſion of vice, and
the foundation of pedantry and ſcholaſtic pride.
Our very learning, perhaps, where its influence ex-
tends, ſerves, in ſome meaſure, to depreſs our national
fpirit. Our literature being derived from nations of a dif-
ferent race, who flouriſhed at a time when our anceſtors
were in a ſtate of barbarity, and conſequently when
they were deſpiſed by thoſe who had attained to the li-
terary arts, has given riſe to a humbling opinion, that
we ourſelves are the offspring of mean and contemptible
nations, with whom the human imagination and fenti-
ment had no effect, till the genius was in a manner in-
fpired by examples, and directed by leſſons that were
brought from abroad. The Romans, from whom our
accounts are chiefly derived, have admitted, in the rude-
neſs of their own anceſtors, a ſyſtem of virtues, which all
fimple nations perhaps equally poſſeſs ; a contempt of
riches, love of their country, patience of hardſhip, danger,
and fatigue. They have, notwithſtanding, vilified our
anceſtors for having perhaps only reſembled their own;
at
Sect. I.
derived from Antiquity.
119
at leaſt, in the defect of their arts, and in the neglect of
conveniences which thoſe arts are employed to procure.
It is from the Greek and the Roman hiſtorians, how-
ever, that we liave not only the moſt authentic and in-
ſtructive, but even the moſt engaging, repreſentations of
the tribes from whom we deſcend. Thoſe. ſublime and
intelligent writers underſtood human nature, and could
collect its features, and exhibit its characters in every ſitua-
tion. They were ill ſucceeded in this taſk by the early
hiſtorians of modern Europe ; who, generally bred to the
profeſſion of monks, and confined to the monaſtic life,
applied themſelves to record what they were pleaſed to
denominate facts, while they ſuffered the productions
of genius to periſh, and were unable, either by the mat-
ter they ſelected, or the ſtyle of their compofitions, to
give any repreſentation of the active ſpirit of mankind
in any condition.
With them, a narration was ſup-
poſed to conſtitute hiſtory, whilft it did not convey any
knowledge of men ; and hiſtory itſelf was allowed to be
complete, while, amidſt the events and the ſucceſſion of
princes that are recorded in the order of time, we are left
to look in vain for thoſe characteriſtics of the under-
ſtanding and the heart, which alone, in every human
tranſaction, render the ſtory either engaging or uſeful.
We therefore willingly quit the hiſtory of our early
anceſtors, where Cæſar and Tacitus have dropped them ;
and perhaps, till we come within the reach of what is
connected with preſent affairs, and makes a part in the
ſyſtem
1
.
.] 20
Part II,
Of the Informations
1
ſyſtem on which we now proceed, have little reaſon to
expect any ſubject to intereſt or inform the mind. We
have no reaſon, however, from hence to conclude, that
the matter itſelf was more barren, or the ſcene of hu-
man affairs leſs intereſting, in modern Europe, than it
lias been on every ſtage where - mankind were engaged
to exhibit the movements of the heart, the efforts of
ge-
neroſity, magnanimity, and courage.
I
11
"
The trial of what thoſe ages contained, is not even fairly
made, when men of genius and diſtinguiſhed abilities,
with the accompliſhments of a learned and a poliſhed
age, collect the materials they have found, and, with the
greateſt ſucceſs, connect the ſtory of illiterate ages with
tranſactions of a later date: it is difficult even for them,
under the names which are applied in a new ſtate of
ſociety, to convey a juſt apprehenſion of what mankind
were in ſituations ſo different, and in times ſo remote
from their own.
In deriving from hiſtorians of this character the in-
ſtruction which their writings are fit to beſtow, we are
frequently to forget the general terms that are employ-
ed, in order to collect the real manners of an age, from
the minute circumſtances that are occaſionally preſented.
The titles of Royal and Noble were applicable to the fa-
milies of Tarquin, Collatinus, and Cincinnatus; but Lu-
cretia was employed in domeſtic induſtry with her maids,
and Cincinnatus followed the plough. The dignities,
and even the offices, of civil ſociety, were known many
ages
8
!
Sect. I.
derived from Antiquity.
I 21
1
1
ages ago, in Europe, by their preſent appellations ; but we
find in the hiſtory of England, that a king and his court
being aſſembled to folemnize a feſtival, an outlaw, who
had ſubſiſted by robbery, came to ſhare in the feaſt. The
king himſelf aroſe to force this unworthy gueſt from the
company, a ſcuffle enſued between them, and the king was
killed *. A chancellor and prime miniſter, whoſe magnifi-
cence and ſumptuous furniture were the ſubject of admi-
ration and envy, had his apartment covered every day in
winter with clean ſtraw and hay, and in ſummer with
green ruſhes or boughs. Even the ſovereign himſelf, in
thoſe ages, was provided with forage for his bed f. Theſe
pictureſque features and characteriſtical ſtrokes of the
times, recal the imagination from the ſuppoſed diſtinction
of monarch and ſubject, to that ſtate of rough familiarity
in which our anceſtors lived, and under which they acted,
with a view to objects, and on principles of conduct, ,
which we ſeldom comprehend, when we are employed to
record their tranſactions, or to ſtudy their characters.
THUCYDIDES, notwithſtanding the prejudice of his coun-
try againſt the name of Barbarian, underſtood that it was
in the cuſtoms of barbarous nations he was to ſtudy the
more ancient manners of Greece.
The Romans might have found an image of their own
anceſtors, in the repreſentations they have given of ours :
and if ever an Arab clan ſhall become a civilized nation, or
* Hume's Hiſtory, ch. 8. p. 278.
of Ibid. p. 73.
Q
any
within
>
9
1 22
Of the Informations, &c. Part ITC
any American tribe eſcape the poiſon which is admini-
ſtered by our traders of Europe, it may be from the rela-
tions of the preſent times, and the deſcriptions which are
now given by travellers, that ſuch a people, in after
ages, may beſt colleet the accounts of their origin. It is
in their preſent condition, tlrat we are to behold, as in a
mirrour, the features of our own progenitors; and from
thence we are to draw our concluſions with reſpect to the
influence of ſituations, in wlrich-we have reaſon to believe,
chat our fathers were placed.
1
WHAT ſhould diſtinguiſh a German or a Briton, in
the habits of his mind or his body, in his manners or
apprehenſions, from an American, who, like him, witlu
his bow and his dart, is left to traverſe the foreſt ; and in:
a like fevere' or variable climate, is obliged to fubfift
by the chace:
IF, in advanced years, we would form a juſt notion of
our progreſs from the cradle, we muſt have recourſe to
the nurſery, and from the example of thoſe who are ſtill
in the period of life we mean to deſcribe, take our repre-
fentation of paſt manners, that cannot, in any other way, :
be recalled.
!
1
3
1
1
1
Sect. 2,
Of Rude Nations; &c
.
.123
1
1
SECT
II.
Of Rude Nations prior to the Eſtabliſhment of Property.
F
1
2
ROM one to the other extremity of America; from
Kamſchatka weſtward to the river Oby, and from
the Northern ſea, over that length of country, to the con-
fines of China, of India, and Perſia; from the Caſpian
to the Red ſea, with little exception, and from thence over
the inland continent and the weſtern ſhores of Africa; we
every where meet with nations on whom we beſtow the
appellations of barbarous or ſavage. That extenſive tract
of the earth, containing ſo great a variety of ſituation,
climáte, and ſoil, ſhould in the manners of its inhabitants,
exhibit all the diverſities which ariſe from the unequal in-
fluence of the ſun, joined to a different nouriſhment and
manner of life. Every queſtion, however, on this ſub-
ject is premature, till we have firſt endeavoured to form
ſome general conception of our ſpecies in its rude ſtate,
and have learned to diſtinguiſh mere ignorance from dull-
nefs, and the want of arts from the want of capacity.
Of the nations who dwell in thoſe, or any other of the
ieſs cultivated parts of the eartla, ſome intruſt their ſub-
fiſtence chiefly to hunting, fiſhing, or the natural pro-
duce of the foil. They have little attention to property,
and ſcarcely any beginnings of fubordination or govern-
ment. Others having poſſeſſed themſelves of herds, and
R 2
depending
1
1
+
1
124
Part II
Of Rude Nations prior to
.
depending for their proviſion on paſture, know what it is.
to be poor and rich.
and rich. They know the relations of patron
and client, of ſervant and maſter, and ſuffer themſelves
to be claſſed according to their meaſures of wealth. This
diſtinction muſt create a material difference of character,
and may furniſh two ſeparate heads, under which to
conſider the hiſtory of mankind in tlieir rudeſt ſfate; tlat
of the favage, who is not yet acquainted with property ;:
and that of the barbarian, to wliom it is, although not:
aſcertained by laws, a principal object of care and deſire.
It muſt appear very evident, that property is a matter
of progreſs. It requires, among other particulars which.
are the effects of time, ſome method of defining poſſeſſion.
The very deſire of it proceeds from experience ;, and the
induſtry by which it is gained, or improved, requires ſuch
a habit of acting with a view to diſtant objects, as may
overcome the preſent difpofition, either. to ſloth. or. enjoy-
ment. This habit is ſlowly acquired, and is in reality, a.
principal diſtinction of nations in the advanced. ftate. of.
mechanic and commercial arts..
1
1
ܕܪ
A
1
IN a tribe which fubfifts by hunting and fiſhing, the
arms, the utenſils, and the fur, which the individual'car-
ries, are to him the only ſubjects. of property... The food
!
of to-morrow is yet wild in the foreſt, or hid in the lake:
it cannot be appropriated before it is caught; and even
then, being the purchaſe of numbers, who fiſh or hunt in
a body, it accrues to the community, and is applied to
immediate uſe, or becomes an acceſſion to the ſtores of.,
the public.
WHERE
Sect. 2: the Eſtabliſhment of Propertya
125
WHERE ſavage nations, as in moſt parts of America,
mix with the practice of hunting ſome ſpecies of rude
agriculture, they ſtill follow, with reſpect to the ſoil and
the fruits of the earth, the analogy of their principal ob-
ject. As the men hunt, ſo the women labour together;
and, after they have ſhared the toils of the feed-time, they
enjoy the fruits of 'the harveſt in common. The field in
which they have planted, like the diſtrict over whiciz
they are accuſtomed to hunt, is claimed as a property by
the nation, but is not parcelled in lots to its members.
They go forth in parties to prepare the ground, to plant,
and to reap. The harveſt. is gathered into the public
gra-
náry, and from thence, at ſtated times, is divided into
Thäres for the maintenance of ſeparate families *. Even
the returns of the market, when they trade with foreigners,
are brought home to the ſtock of the nation t..
As the fur and the bow pcrtain to the individual, the,
cabbin and its utenſils are appropriated to the family
and as the domeſtic cares are committed to the women, ſo
the property of the houſehold ſeems likewiſe to be veſted
in them. The children are conſidered as pertaining to the
mother, with little regard to deſcent on the father's ſide:
Hiſtory of the Caribbees.
+ Charlevoix. This account of rude nations, in moſt points of importance, ſo
far as it relates to the original North Americans, is not founded ſo much on the
teſtimony of this or of the other writers cited, as it is on the concurring repreſenta-
tions of living witneſſes, who in the courſe of trade, of war, and of treaties, have
had ample occaſion to obſerve the manners of that people. It is neceſſary, however,
for the fake of thoſe who may not have converſed with the living witneſſes to refer
to printed authorities,
The
*126
Of Rude Nations prior to Part II.
The males, ibefore they are married, remain in the cab-
bin in which they are born; but after they have formed
a new connection with the other ſex, they change their
habitation, and become an acceſſion to the family in which
they have found their wives. The hunter and the warrior
are numbered by the matron as a part of her treaſure;
they are reſerved for perils and trying occaſions ; and in
the receſs of public councils, in the intervals of hunting
or war, are maintained by the cares of the woman, and
loiter about in mere amuſement or ſloth **
1
While one ſex continue to value themſelves chiefly
on their courage, their talent for policy, and their war-
like atchievements, this ſpecies of property which is be-
ſtowed on the other, is in reality a mark of fubjection ;
not, as ſome writers alledge, of their having acquired an
aſcendant f. It is the care and trouble of a ſubject with
which the warrior does not chuſe to be embarraſſed. It is
a ſervitude, and a continual toil, where no honours are
won; and they whoſe province it is, are in fact the ſlaves
and the helots of their country. If in this deſtination of
the ſexes, while the men continue to indulge themſelves
in the contempt of ſordid and mercenary arts, the cruel
eſtabliſhment of ſlavery is for ſome ages deferred ; if in
this tender, though unequal alliance, the affections of the
heart prevent the ſeverities practiſed on llaves ; we have
in the cuſtom itſelf, as perhaps in many other inſtances,
reaſon to prefer the firſt ſuggeſtions of nature, to many of
her after refinements.
* Lafitau.
+ Ibid.
1
!
IF
1
1
Seet. 2.
the Eſtabliſoment of Property.
127
If mankind, in any inſtance, continue the article of
property on the footing we have now repreſented; we
may eaſily credit what is farther reported by travellers,
that they admit of no. diftinctions of rank or condition ;
and yhat they have in fact no degree of fubordination dif-
ferent from the diſtribution of function, which follows:
the differences of age, talents, and diſpoſitions. Perſonal
qualities give an aſcendant in the midſt of occaſions which
require their exertion; but in times of relaxation, leave no
veſtige of power or prerogative. A warrior who has led
the youth of his nation to the ſlaughter of their enemies,
or who has been foremoſt in the chace, returns upon a
level with the reſt of his tribe ; and when the only buſi-
neſs is to ſleep, or to feed, can enjoy no pre-eminence ;
for he ſleeps and he feeds no better than they.
I
A
WA
WHERE no profit attends dominion, one party is as
much averſe to the trouble of perpetual command, as.
the other is to the mortification of perpetual ſubmiſſion:
" I love victory, I love great actions,” ſays Monteſquieu
in the character of Sylla ; “.but have no reliſh for the:
languid detail of pacific government, or the pageantry.
“ of high ſtation.' He has touched perhaps what is a
prevailing ſentiment in the ſimpleſt ſtate of ſociety, when
the weakneſs of motives ſuggeſted by intereſt, and the
ignorance of any elevation not founded on merit, fupplies.
the place of diſdain,
4
THE
1
1
1
128
Of Rude Nations prior to
Part II.
1
The character of the mind, however, in this ſtate,
is not founded on ignorance alone. Men are conſcious
of their equality, and are tenacious of its rights. Even
when they follow a leader to the field, they cannot brook
the pretenſions to a formal command:- they liſten to no
orders; and they come under no military engagements,
but thoſe of murual fidelity, and equal ardour in the
enterpriſe *.
This deſcription, we may believe, is unequally ap-
plicable to different nations, who have made unequal
advances in the eſtabliſhment of property. Among the
Caribbees, and the other natives of the warmer climates
in America, the dignity of chieftain is hereditary, or
elective, and continued for life: the. unequal diſtribu-
tion of property creates a viſible ſubordination f. But
among the Iroquois, and other nations of the temperate
zone, the titles of magiſtrate and ſubject, of noble and
mean, are as little known as thoſe of rich and poor.
The old men, without being inveſted with any coercive
power, employ their natural. authority in adviſing or in
prompting the reſolutions of their tribe : the military
leader is pointed out by the ſuperiority of his man-
hood and valour: the ſtateſman is diſtinguiſhed only by
the attention with which his counſel is heard ; the war-
rior by the confidence with which the youth of his na-
tion follow him to the field : and if their concerts muſt
* Charlevoix.
+ Wafer's account of the Ifthmus of Darien,
6
be
he
129
Sect. 2. the Eſtabliſhment of Property.
be ſuppoſed to conſtitute a ſpecies of political govern-
ment, it is one to which no language of ours can be ap-
plied. Power is no more than the natural aſcendency
of the mind; the diſcharge of office no more than a
natural exerciſe of the perſonal character; and while the
community acts with an appearance of order, there
is no ſenſe of diſparity in the breaſt of any of its mem-
bers *
1
In theſe happy, though informal, proceedings, where
age alone gives a place in the council ; where youth,
ardour, and valour in the field, give a title to the ſta-
tion of leader; where the whole community is aſſembled
on any alarming occaſion, we may venture to ſay, that
we have found the origin of the ſenate, the executive
power, and the aſſembly of the people; inſtitutions for
which ancient legiſlators have been ſo much renowned.
The ſenate among the Greeks, as well as the Latins,
appears, from the etymology of its name, to have been
originally compoſed of elderly men. The military leader
at Rome, in a manner not unlike to that of the Ame-
rican warrior, proclaimed his levies, and the citizen
prepared for the field, in conſequence of a voluntary
engagement. The ſuggeſtions of nature, which directed
the policy of nations in the wilds of America, were
followed before on the banks of the Eurotas and the
Tyber ; and Lycurgus and Romulus found the model
of their inſtitutions where the members of every rude
1
V
Colden's hiſtory of the Five Nations.
R
nation
130
Rude Nations prior to
Part II.
I
nation find the earlieſt mode of uniting their talents, and
combining their forces.
1
1
AMONG the North-American nations, every individual
is independent ; but he is engaged by his affections and
his liabits in the cares of a family. Families, like ſo many
ſeparat e tribes, are ſubject to no inſpection or govern-
ment from abroad ; whatever paſſes at home, even blood-
ſhed and murder, are only ſuppoſed to concern them-
ſelves. They are, in the mean time, the parts of a
canton; the women aſſemble to plant their maize; the
old men go to council ; the huntſman and the warrior
joins the youth of his village in the field. Many ſuch
cantons aſſemble to conſtitute a national council, or 'to
execute a national eňterpriſe. When the Europeans made
their firſt ſettlements in America, fix ſuch nations had
formed a league, had their amphyctiones or ſtates-general,
and, by the firmneſs of their union, and the ability of
their councils, had obtained an aſcendant from the
mouth of the St. Laurence to that of the Miſſiſippi *
They appeared to underſtand the objects of the confede-
racy, as well as thoſe of the ſeparate nation ; they ftu-
died a balance of power; the ſtateſman of one country
watched the deſigns and proceedings of another; and
occaſionally threw the weight of his tribe into a dif-
ferent ſcale. They had their alliances and their treaties,
which, like the nations of Europe, they maintained, or
they broke, upon reaſons of ſtate ; and remained at
* Lafitau, Charlevoix, Colden, &c.
6
1
peace
+
Sect. 2.
the Eſtabliment of Property.
I3T
peace from a ſenſe of neceflity or expediency, and went
to war upon any emergence of provocation or jealouſy.
1
Thus, without any ſettled form of government, or any
bond of union, but what reſembled more the ſuggeſtion
of inſtinct, than the invention of reaſon, they conducted
themſelves with the concert, and the force, of nations.
Foreigners, without being able to diſcover who is the
magiſtrate, or in what manner the fenate is compoſed,
always find a council with whom they may treat, or'a
band of warriors with whom they may fight. Without
police or compulſory laws, their domeſtic ſociety is con-
ducted with order, and the abſence of vicious difpofiti-
ons, is a better ſecurity than any eſtabliſhment for the
ſuppreſſion of crimes.
1
DISORDERS,, however, ſometimes occur, eſpecially in
times of debauch, when the immoderate uſe of intoxi.
cating liquors, to which they are extremely addicted,
ſuſpends the ordinary caution of their demeanour, and
inflaming their violent paſſions, engages them in quar-
rels and bloodſhed. When a perſon is fain, his mur-
derer is ſeldom called to an immediate account: but he
has a quarrel to ſuſtain with the family and the friends ;
or, if a ſtranger, witli the countrymen of the deceaſed;
fometimes even with his own nation at home, if the in-
jury committed be of a kind to alarm the ſociety. The
nation, the canton, or the family, endeavour by pre-
ſents, to atone for the offence of any of their members
R 2
and,
**
;
E
D
7-32
Of Rude Nations prior to Part II:
and by pacifying the partics aggrieved, endeavour to :
prevent what alarms the community more than the firſt
diſorder, the ſubſequent effects of revenge and animo-
fity *. The ſhedding of blood, however, if the guilty
perſon remain where he has committed the crime, ſel-
dom eſcapes unpuniſhed : the friend of the deceaſed
knows how to diſguiſe, though not to ſuppreſs, his re-
ſentment'; and even after many years have elapſed, is
ſure to repay the injury that was done to his kindred or
his houſe.
!
These conſiderations render tliem cautious and cir:
cumſpect, put them on their guard againſt their paſſions,
and give to their ordinary deportment an air of phlegm
and compoſure ſuperior to what is poſſeſſed: among po-
liſhed nations. They are, in the mean time, affectionate
in their carriage, and in their converſations pay a mu-
tual attention and regard, ſays Charlevoix, more, tender
and more engaging, than what we profeſs in the ceremo-
nial of poliſhed ſocieties.
.
1
This writer has, obſerved, that the nations among
whom he travelled in North America, never mentioned
acts of generoſity.or. kindneſs under the notion of duty:
They acted from affection as they acted from appetite,
without- regard to its conſequences. When they had done
a kindneſs, they had gratified a deſire.;, the buſineſs was
+
Lafitay...
finiſhed,
S
1
Sect. 2. the Eſtabliſhment of Property.
133
finiſhed, and it paſſed from the memory. When they re-
ceived a favour, it might, or it might not, prove the oc-
caſion of friendſhip: if it did not, the parties appeared to
ħave no apprehenſions of gratitude, as a duty by which
the one was bound to make a return, or the other intitled
to reproach the perſon who had failed in his part. The
fpirit with which“they give or receive preſents, is the ſame
which Tacitus obſerved among the ancient Germans :
They delight in them, but do not conſider them as mat-
ter of obligation *. Such gifts are of little conſequence;
except when employed as the ſeal of a bargain or treaty.
1
1
It was their favourite maxim, That no man is naturally
indebted to another ; that he is not, therefore, obliged
to bear with any impoſition, or unequal treatment to
Thus, in a principle apparently fullen and inhoſpitable,
they have diſcovered the foundation of juſtice, and obu
ferve its rules, with a ſteadineſs and candour which no
cultivation has been found to improve. The freedom
which they give in what relates to the ſuppoſed duties of
kindneſs and friendſhip, ſerves only to engage the heart
more entirely, where it is once poſſeſſed with affec-
tion. We love to chuſe our object without any reſtraint,
and we conſider kindneſs itſelf as a taſk, when the duties
of friendſhip are exacted by rule. We therefore, by our
demand for attentions, rather corrupt than improve the
* Muneribus gaudent, fed nec data imputant, nec acceptis obligantur.
+. Charlevoix..
ſyſtem:
134
Part II.
Of Rude Nations prior to
ſyſtem of morality; and by our exactions of gratitude,
and our frequent propoſals to inforce its obſervance, we
only ſhew, that we have miſtaken its nature; we only give
fymptoms of that growing ſenſibility to intereſt, from
which we meaſure the expediency of friendſhip and ge-
neroſity itſelf; and by which we would introduce the
ſpirit of traffic into the commerce of affection. In conſe-
quence of this proceeding, we are often obliged to decline
a favour with the ſame ſpirit that we throw off a ſervile
engagement, or reject a bribe. To the unrefining ſavage
every favour is welcome, and every preſent received with-
out reſerve or reflection.
}
1
1
The love of equality, and the love of juſtice, were
originally the ſame: and although, by the conſtitution
of different ſocieties, unequal privileges are beſtowed on
their members ; and although juſtice itſelf requires a pro-
per regard to be paid to ſuch privileges ; yet he who has
forgotten that men were originally equal, eaſily degene-
rates into a flave; or in the capacity of a maſter, is not
to be truſted with the rights of his fellow-creatures. This
happy principle gives to the mind its ſenſe of indepen-
dence, renders it indifferent to the favours which are in the
power of other men, checks it in the commiſſion of
injuries, and leaves the heart open to the affections of ge-
neroſity and kindneſs. It gives to the untutored American
that ſentiment of candour, and of regard to the welfare
of others, which, in ſome degree, ſoftens the arrogant
pride of his carriage, and in times of confidence and
peace,
L
1
1
1
Sect. 2. the Eſabliſhment of Property. 135
peace, without the aſliſtance of government or law, ren-
ders the approach and commerce of ſtrangers ſecure.
AMONG this people the foundations of honour are emi-
nent abilities and great fortitude ; not the diſtinctions
of equipage and fortune: The talents in eſteem are ſuch
as their ſituation leads them to employ, the exact know-
ledge of a country, and ſtratagem in war. On theſe
qualifications, a captain among the Caribbees underwent
an examination. When a new leader was to be choſen,
a ſcout was ſent forth to traverſe the foreſts which led to
the enemy's country, and, upon his return, the candi-
date was deſired to find the track in which he had travel-
led. A brook, or a fountain, was named to him on the
frontier, and he was deſired to find the neareſt path to a
particular ſtation, and to plant a ſtake in the place *
They can, accordingly, trace a wild beaſt, or the human
foot, over many leagues of a pathleſs foreſt, and find
their way acroſs a woody and uninhabited continent, by
means of refined obſervations, which eſcape the traveller
who has been accuſtomed to different aids. They ſteer
in ſlender canoes, açžoſs ſtormy ſeas, with a dexterity
equal to that of the moſt experienced pilot fi They carry
a penetrating eye for the thoughts and intentions of thoſe
with whom they have to deal ; and when they mean to
deceive, they cover themſelves with arts which the moft
ſubtile can feldom elude. They harangue in their public
11
...
5
*
* Lafitau.
Charlevoix
councils
1
136
Part II.
Of Rude Nations prior to
2
councils with a nervous aud figurative elacution ; and
conduct themſelves in the management of their treaties
with a perfect diſcernment of their national intereſts.
.
Thus being able maſters in the detail of their own af-
fairs, and well qualified to acquit themſelves on particu-
lar occaſions, they ftudy no ſcience, and go in purſuit of
no general principles. They even ſeem incapable of at-
tending to any diſtant conſequences, beyond thoſe they
have experienced in hunting or war. They intruſt the
proviſion of every ſeaſon to itſelf; conſume the fruits of
the earth in ſummer ; and, in winter, are driven in queſt
of their prey, through woods, and over deſerts covered
with ſnow. They do not form in one hour thoſe maxims
which may prevent the errors of the next; and they fail
in thoſe apprehenſions, which, in the intervals of paſſion,
produce. ingenuous ſhame, compaſſion, remorſe, or a com-
mand of appetite. They are feldom made to repent of any
violence ; nor is a perſon, indeed, thought accountable
in his ſober mood, for what he did in the heat.of.a paſſion,
or in a time of debauch,
Their ſuperſtitions are groveling and mean: and did
this happen among rude nations alone, we could not
ſufficiently admire the effects of politeneſs ; but it is a
ſubject on which few nations are intitled to cenſure their
neighbours. When we have confidered the ſuperſtitions
of one people, we find little variety in thoſe of another.
They are but a repetition of ſimilar weakneſſes and abſur-
dities, derived from a common ſource, a perplexed ap-
prehenſion
산
​+
Sect. 2. the Eſtabliſbment of Property.
137
prehenſion of inviſible agents, that are ſuppoſed to guide
all precarious events to which human foreſight cannot
extend.
In what depends on the known or the regular courſe
of nature, the mind truſts to itſelf; but in ſtrange and
uncommon fituations, it is the dupe of its own perplexi-
ty, and, inſtead of relying on its prudence or courage,
has recourſe to divination, and a variety of obſervances,
that, for being irrational, are always the more revered.
Superſtition being founded in doubts and anxiety, is fof-
tered by ignorance and myſtery. Its maxims, in the mean
time, are not always confounded with thoſe of common
life ; nor does its weakneſs or folly always prevent the
watchfulneſs, penetration, and courage, men are accuf-
tomed to employ in the management of common affairs,
A Roman conſulting futurity by the pecking of birds, or a
King of Sparta inſpecting the intrails of a beaſt, Mithridates
conſulting his women on the interpretation of his dreams,
are examples fufficient to prove, that a childiſh imbecility
on this ſubject is conſiſtent with the greateſt military and
political conduct,
CONFIDENCE in the effect of charms is not peculiar to
any age or nation. Few, even of the accompliſhed Greeks
and Romans, were able to ſhake off this weakneſs. In
their caſe, it was not removed by the higheſt meaſures of
civilization. It has yielded only to the light of true re-
ligion, or to the ſtudy of nature, by which we are led
10 fubftitụte a wife providence operațing by phyſical
S
cauſes,
+
1
1
138 Of Rude Nations prior to Part II.
!
4
cauſes, in the place of phantoms that terrify or amuſe the
ignoraut.
The principal point of honour among the rude nations
of America, as indeed in every inſtance where mankind
are not greatly corrupted, is fortitude. Yet their way of
maintaining this point of honour, is very different from
that of the nations of Europe. Their ordinary method of
making war is by ambuſcade ; and they ſtrives by over-
reaching an enemy, to commit the greateſt ſlaughter, or
to make the greateſt number of priſoners, with the leaſt
hazard to themſelves. They deem it a folly to: expoſe
their own perſons in aſſaulting an enemy; and do not
rejoice in victories which are ſtained with the blood of
their own people. They do not value themſelves, as. in:
Europe, on defying their enemy upon equal terms. They
even boaſt, that they approach like foxes, or that they fly
like birds, not leſs than that they devour like lions. In :
Europe, to fall in battle is. accounted an honour ;; among
the natives of America, id is reckoned diſgraceful *. They
reſerve their fortitule for the trials. they abide when
attacked by ſurpriſe, or when fallen into their enemies
hands ; -and when they are obliged to maintain their
own honour, and that of their nation, in the midſt of tor-
ments that require efforts of patience more than of
valour.
On theſe occaſions, they are far from allowing it to be:
fuppoſed that they wilh to decline the conflict. It is held
infamous to avoid it, even by, a voluntary death; and the
1
e Charleroix,
greateſt
1
1
1
Sect. 25 the Eſtabliſhment of Property.
139
greateſt affront which can be offered to a priſoner, is to
refuſe him the honours of a man, in the manner of his
execution : “ With-hold,” ſays an old man, in the midſt
of his torture, " the ſtabs of your knife ; rather let
me die by fire, that thoſe dogs, your allies, from beyond
“ the ſeas, may learn to ſuffer like men *." Witli terms
of defiance, the victim, in thoſe folemn trials, commonly
excites the animoſity of his tormentors, as well as his
own; and whilſt we ſuffer for human nature, under the
effect of its errors, we muſt admire its force.
The people with whom this practice prevailed, were
commonly deſirous of repairing their own loſſes, by
adopting the priſoners of war into their fainilies: and
cven in the laſt moment, the hand which was raiſed
to torment, frequently gave the lign of adoption, by
which the priſoner became the child or tlie brother of
his enemy, and came to ſhare in all the privileges of a
citizen. In their treatment of thoſe who ſuffered, they
did not appear to be guided by principles of hatred or
revenge: they obſerved the point of honour in applying
as well as in bearing their torments; and, by a ſträige
kind of affection and tenderneſs, were diretód to be inoſt
cruel where they intended the higheſt reſpect : the
coward was put to immediate death by the hands of
wonen:'the valiant was ſuppoſed to be intitled to all the
trials of fortitude that men could invent or employ:
gave me joy," ſays an old man to his captive, « tliat ſo
1
66 It
)
66
* Colden.
$ 2
-s6 gallant
1
1
140
Part II.
1
Of Rude Nations prior to
I
gallant a youth was allotted to my ſhare: I propoſed to
“ have placed you on the couch of my nephew, who was
“ flain by your countrymen ;. to have transferred all my
« tenderneſs to you ; and to have ſolaced my age in your
company: but maimed and mutilated as you now ap--
pear, death is better than life: prepare yourſelf there--
s fore to die like a man *."
It is perhaps with a view to theſe exhibitions; or rather
in admiration of fortitude, the principle from which they
proceed, that the Americans are ſo attentive, in their ear-
lieſt years, to harden their nerves f. The children are:
taught to vie with each other in bearing the ſharpeſt tor--
ments ;
the youth are admitted into the claſs of manhood,
after violent proofs of their patience; and leaders are put.
to the teſt, by famine, burning, and ſuffocation ,
It might be apprehended, tfiat among rude nations,
where the means of ſubſiſtence are procured with ſo much
difficulty, the mind could never raiſe itſelf above the
confideration of this ſubject ; and that man would, in
this condition, give examples of the meaneſt and moſt .
mercenary ſpirit. The reverſe, however, is true. Die-
* Charlevoix.
+ 1b. This writer ſays, that he has ſeen a boy and a girl, having bound their
naked arms together, place a burning coal between them, to try who could endurc:
it the longeſt,
Lafitau.
rested
-
1
1
Sect. 2:
the Eſtabliſhment of Property.
14.1
7
**
rected in this particular by the deſires of nature, men,
in their fimpleft ftate, attend to the objects of appetite
no further than appetite requires ; and their deſires of
fortune extend no further than the meal which gratifies
their hunger: they apprehend no fuperiority of rank
in the poſſeſſion of wealth, ſuch as might inſpire any
habitual principle of covetouſneſs, vanity, or ambition :
they can apply to no taſk that engages no immediate
paſſion, and take pleaſure in no occupation that afe
fords no dangers to be braved, and no honours to be
won..
1
66
It was not. among the ancient Romans alone that
commercial arts, or a ſordid mind, were held in con-
tempt. A like ſpirit prevails in every rude and inde-
pendent ſociety “I am a warrior, and not a merchant,'?"
ſaid an American to the governor of Canada, who pro-
poſed to give him goods in exchange for ſome priſoners
he had taken ; “ your cloaths and utenſils do not. tempt
me; but my priſoners are now. in. your power, and
you may ſeize them :. if you do... I muſt go forth and
" take more priſoners, or .periſh in the attempt ; and
if that chance. Should befal me, I ſhall die like a man;
“ but remember,, that. our nation will charge you as
" the cauſe of my death *." With theſe apprehenſions,
they have an elevation, and a ſtatelineſs of carriage, which
the pride of nobility, where it is moſt revered by poliſhed:
nations, feldom beſtows,
66
!
it Charlevoix,
THEY
)
142
Part II.
Of Rude Nations prior to
They are attentive to their perſons, and employ mucli
time, as well as endure great pain, in the methods they
take to adorn their bodies, to give the permanent ftains
with which they are coloured, or preſerve the paint,
which they are perpetually repairing, in order to appear
with advantage.
t
Their averſion to every fort of employment which
they hold to be mean, makes them paſs great part of
their time in idleneſs or fleep; and a man who, in pur-
ſuit of a wild beaſt, or to ſurpriſe his enemy, will traverſe
a hundred leagues on ſnow, will not, to procure his food,
ſubmit to any ſpecies of ordinary labour. Strange,"
ſays Tacitus, " that the ſame perſon ſhould be ſo much
*6 averſe to repoſe, and ſo much addicted to floth. *"
6
3
GAMES of hazard are not the invention of poliſhed
ages ; men of curioſity have looked for their origin, in
vain, among the monuments of an obſcure antiquity; and
it is probable that they belonged to times too remote
and too rude even for the conjectures of antiquarians to
rcach. The very favage brings his furs, his utenſils,
and his beads, to the hazard-table: he finds here the
paſſions and agitations which the applications of a tedi-
ous induſtry could not excite: and while the throw is de-
pending, he tears his hair, and beats his breaſt, with a
rage which the more accompliſhed gameſter las ſome
times learned to repreſs : he often quits the party naked,
* Mira diverfitas naturæ, ut idem homines fic ament inertiam & oderint quietem,
4
and
2
1
I 43
Sect. 2. the Eſtabliſhment of Property.
and ſtripped of all his pofſeflions ; or where ſlavery is in
ufe, ſtakes his freedom to have one chance more to reco-
ver his former lofs *
!
With all theſe infirmities, vices, or reſpectable qua-
lities, belonging to the human ſpecies in its rudeſt ftate;
the love of ſociety, friendſhip, and public affection, pene-
tration, eloquence, and courage; appear to have been
its original properties, not the ſubſequent effects of device
or invention. If mankind are qualified to improve their
manners, the materials to be improved were furniſhed by
nature ; and the effect of this improvement is not to
inſpire the ſentiments of tenderneſs and generoſity, nor to
beſtow the principal conſtituents of a reſpectable character,
but to obviate the caſual abuſes of paſſion ; and to pre-
vent a mind, which feels the beſt diſpoſitions in their
greateſt force, from being at times likewiſe the ſport of
brutal appetite and of ungovernable violence.
1
Were Lycurgus employed anew to find a plan of gow
vernment for the people we have defcribedd; he would
find them, in many important particulars, prepared by
nature herſelf to receive his inſtitutions. His equality in
matters of property being already eſtabliſhed, he would
have no faction to apprehend from the oppoſite intereſts
of the poor and the rich ; his fenate, his aſſembly of the
people, is conſtiruted; his diſcipline is in ſome meaſure:
adopted; and the place of his helots is ſupplied by the
taſk allotted to one of the ſcxes. With all theſe advantages,
* Tacitus, Lafitau, Charlevoix..
he
'
144
Of Rude Nations prior to Part II,
he would ſtill have had a very important leſſon for civil ſo-.
eiety to teach, that by which a few learn to 'command, and
the many are taught to obey : he would have all his precau-
tions to take againſt the future intruſion of mercenary arts,
the admiration of luxury, and the paſſion for intereſt: he
would ſtill perhaps have a more difficult taſk than any of
the former, in teaching his citizens the command of apa
petite, and an indifference to pleaſure, as well as a con-
tempt of pain; in teaching them to maintain, in the field,
the formality of uniform precautions, and as much to
avoid being themſelves ſurpriſed, as they endeavour to
ſurpriſe their enemy,
ܪ
For want of theſe advantages, rude nations in gene-
ral, though they are patient of hardſhip and fatigue,
though they are addicted to war, and are qualified by
their ſtratagem and valour to throw terror into the ar-
mies of a more regular enemy; yet, in the courſe of a
continued ſtruggle, always yield to the ſuperior arts, and
the diſcipline of more civilized nations,
Hence the
Romans were able to over-run the provinces of Gaul,
Germany, and Britain ; and hence the Europeans have
a growing aſcendency over the nations of Africa and
America.
+
On the credit of a ſuperiority which certain nations
poſſeſs, they think that they have a claim to dominion;
and even Cæfar appears to have forgotten what were the
paſſions, as well as the rights of mankind, when he
complained,
1
1
1
Sect. 2.
the Eſtabliſhment of Property.
145
complained, that the Britons, after having ſent him a
ſubmiſſive meſſage to Gaul, perhaps to prevent his inva-
fion, ſtill pretended to fight for thcir liberties, and to
oppoſe his deſcent on their iſland *.
There is not, perhaps, in the whole deſcription of
mankind, a circumſtance more remarkable than that
mutual contempt and averſion which nations, under a
different ſtate of commercial arts, beſtow on each other.
Addicted to their own purſuits, and conſidering their
own condition as the ſtandard of human felicity, all
nations pretend to the preference, and in their practice
give ſufficient proof of fincerity. Even the favage ſtill
leſs than the citizen, can be made to quit that manner
of life in which he is trained: he loves that freedom of
mind which will not be bound to any taſk, and which
owns no ſuperior: however tempted to mix with poliſhed
nations, and to better his fortune, the firſt moment of
liberty brings him back to the woods again ; he droops
and he pines in the ſtreets of the populous city; he wan-
ders diſſatisfied over the open and the cultivated field; he
ſeeks the frontier and the foreſt, where, with a conſtitution
prepared to undergo the hardſhips and the difficulties of
the ſituation, he enjoys a delicious freedom from care,
.
1
* Cæſar queſtus, quod quum ultro in continentem legatis miffis pacem a le
pcriſſent, bellum ſine cauſa intuliffent. Lib. 4.
T
and
146
Part II.
1
Of Rude Nations under the
1
1
and a ſeducing ſociety, where no rules of behaviour are
preſcribed, but the ſimple dictates of the heart.
S E C T.
III.
Of Rude Nations under the Impreſſions of Property and
Intereſt.
I
+
T was a proverbial imprecation in uſe among the
hunting nations on the confines of Siberia, That
their enemy might be obliged to live like a Tartar, and
be ſeized with the folly of breeding and attending his
cattle * Nature, it ſeems, in their apprehenſion, by ſtor-
ing the woods and the deſert with game, rendered the
talk of the herdſman unneceſſary, and left to man only
the trouble of ſelecting and of ſeizing his prey.
The indolence of mankind, or rather their, averſion
to any application in which they are not engaged by
immediate inſtinct and paſſion, retards their progreſs
in extending the notion of property. It has been found,
lowever, even while the means of ſubſiſtence are left
in common, and the Atock of the public is yet undivi-
ded, that this notion is already applied to different
ſubjccts ; as the fur and the bow pcrtain to the in-
* Abu!gaze's Genealogical Hiſtory of the Tartars.
2
dividual;
/
1
1
1
1
Sect. 3.
147
1
1
1
Impreſſions of Property and Intereſi
dividual; the cottage, with its furniture, are appropriated
to the family.
WHEN the parent begins to deſire a better proviſion
for his children than is found under the promiſcuous
management of many copartners, when he has applied
his labour and his ſkill apart, he aims at an excluſive
poffeſſion, and ſeeks the property of the ſoil, as well as
the uſe of its fruits.
When the individual no longer finds among his aſſo-
ciates the ſame inclination to commit every ſubject to
public uſe, he is ſeized with concern for his perſonal for-
tune; and is alarmed by the cares which every perſon
entertains for himſelf. He is urged as much by emula-
tion and jealouſy, as by the ſenſe of neceſſity. He ſuffers
conſiderations of intereſt to reſt on his mind, and when
every preſent appetite is ſufficiently gratified, he can act
with a view to futurity, or rather finds an object of vanity
in having amaſſed what is become a ſubject of competition
and a matter of univerſal eſteem, Upon this motive, where
violence is reſtrained, he can apply his hand to lucrative
arts, confine himſelf to a tedious taſk, and wait with
patience for the diſtant returns of his labour.
Thus mankind acquire induſtry by many and by ſlow
degrees. They are taught to regard their intereſt; they
are taught to abſtain from unlawful profits ; they are
ſecured in the poſſeſſion of what they fairly obtain
and by theſe methods the habits of the labourer, the
mechanic, and the trader, are gradually formed. A hoard,
collected
4
1
;
A
T2
1
148
Part II
Of Rude Nations under the
collected from the ſimple productions of nature, or a herd
of cattle, are, in every rude nation, the firſt ſpecies of
wealth. The circumſtances of the ſoil, and the climate,
determine whether the inhabitant ſhall apply himſelf
chiefly to agriculture or paſture ; whether he ſhall fix his
reſidence, or be moving continually about with all his pof-
ſeſſions.
In the weſt of Europe ; in America, from ſouth to
north, with a few exceptions ; in the torrid zone, and
every where within the warmer climates ; mankind have
generally applied themſelves to ſome ſpecies of agricul-
ture, and have been diſpoſed to ſettlement. In the north
and middle region of Aſia, they depended entirely on their
herds, and were perpetually ſhifting their ground in ſearch
of new paſture. The arts which pertain to ſettlement
have been practiſed, and variouſly cultivated, by the inha-
bitants of Europe. Thoſe which are conſiſtent with per-
petual migration, have, from the earlieſt accounts of hif-
tory, remained nearly the ſame with the Scythian or
Tartar. The tent pitched on a moveable carriage, the
horſe applied to every purpoſe of labour, and of war, of
the dairy, and the butcher's ſtall, from the earlieſt to the
lateſt accounts, have made up the riches and equipage of
this wandering people:
But in whatever way rude nations ſubſiſt, there are
certain points in which, under the firſt impreſſions of
property, they nearly agree. Homer either lived with a
people in this ſtage of their progreſs, or found himſelf en-
gaged to exhibit their character. Tacitus has made them
the
.
1
2
-
i
Sect. 3. Impreſſions of Property and Intereſt. .
149
}
the ſubject of a particular treatiſe; and if this be an
aſpect under which mankind deſerve to be viewed, it muſt
be confeſſed, that we have ſingular advantages in collect-
ing their features. The portrait has already been drawn
by the ableft hands, and gives, at one view, in the writ-
ings of theſe celebrated authors, whatever has been ſcat-
tered in the relations of hiſtorians, or whatever we have
opportunities to obſerve in the actual manners of
men,
who ſtill remain in a ſimilar ſtate.
E.
)
IN paſſing from the condition we have deſcribed, to
this we have at preſent in view, mankind. ſtill retain
many parts of their earlieſt character. They are ſtill
averſe to labour, addiéted to war, admirers of fortitude,
and, in the language of. Tacitus, more. laviſh of their
blood than of their ſweat *.. They are fond of fantaſtic
ornaments in their dreſs, and endeavour to fill up the liſt-
leſs intervals of a life addicted to violence, with hazardous
ſports, and with games of chance. Every ſervile occu-
pation they, commit. to. women or ſlaves. But we may
apprehend, that the individual having now found a fe-
parate intereſt, the bands of ſociety muſt become leſs:
firm, and domeſtic diſorders more frequent. The mem+.
bers of any community, being diſtinguiſhed among them-
felves bly unequal'fhares in the diſtribution of property,
the ground of a permanent and palpable ſubordination:
is laid.
La
1
These particulars accordingly. take place among mans.
kind, in paſſing from the ſavage to what may be called
he
Pigrum quin immo et iners videtur, ſudore acquirere quod poflis fanguine.
parare.
the
:
150
Of Rude Nations under the Part II.
the barbarous flate. Members of the famc community
enter into quarrels of competition or revenge. They
unite in following leaders, who are diſtinguiſhed by
their fortunes, and by the luſtre of their birth. They
join the deſire of ſpoil with the love of glory; and from
an opinion that what is acquired by force, juſtly pertains to
the victor, they become hunters of men, and bring every
conteſt to the deciſion of the ſword:
Every nation is a band of robbers, who prey withi-
out reſtraint, or remorſe, on their neighbours. Cattle,
ſays Achilles, may be ſeized in every field ; and the
coaſts of the Ægean ſea were accordingly pillaged by the
heroes of Homer, for no other reaſon, than becauſe thoſe
heroes choſe to poſſeſs themſelves of the braſs and iron,
the cattle, the ſlaves, and the women, which were found
among the nations around them. .
.
1
A Tartar mounted on his horſe, is an animal of prey,
who only inquires where cattle are to be found, and how
far he muſt go to poſſeſs them. The monk, who had
fallen under the diſpleaſure of Mangu Chan, made his
peace, by promiſing, that the Pope, and the Chriſtian
princes, ſhould make a ſurrender of all their herds *
A ſimilar ſpirit reigned, without exception, in all the
bárbarous nations of Europe, Aſia, and Africa.' The
antiquities of Greece and Italy, and the fables of every
* Rubruquis.
ancient
1
€
I
Seet. 3:
Impreſions of Property and Intereſ.
151
ancient poet, contain examples of its force. It was this
ſpirit that brought our anceſtors firſt into the provinces
of the Roman empire ; and that afterward, more per-
haps than their reverence for the croſs, led them to the
Eaſt, to ſhare with the Tartars in the ſpoils of the Saracen
empire.
1
1
From the deſcriptions contained in the laſt ſection,
we may incline to believe, that mankind, in their fim-
pleſt ſtate, are on the eve of erecting republics. Their
love of equality, their habit of aſſembling in public coun-
cils, and their zeal for the tribe to which they belong;
are qualifications that fit them to act under that ſpecies of
government; and they ſeem to have but a few ſteps to
make, in order to reach its eſtabliſhment. They haye.
only to define the numbers of which their councils (hall
confift
, and to ſettle the forms of their meeting: They
have only to beſtow a permanent authority for repreſſing
diſorders, and to enact a few rules in favour of that juf-
tice they have already, acknowledged, and from inclinar
tion ſo ſtrictly obſerve. !!
وز: 1;*
1
1
je!
4
But theſe ſteps are far from being fe eaſily, made, aş
they appear on a ſlight or, a tịanſient viewiiThe, ieſoļu
tion of chuſing, fromammong their equals, the magiſtrazę
to whom they give from thenceforward a right to con-
troul their own actions, is far from the thoughts of
ſimple men ; and no perſuaſion; perllaps, "could make
them,
1
!
1
|
1
152
Part II.
Of Rude Nations under the
them adopt this meaſure, or give them any ſenſe of its
uſe.
Even after nations have choſen a military leader, they
do not intruft him with any ſpecies of civil authority. The
captain, among the Caribbees, did not pretend to decide in
domeſtic diſputes ; the terms juriſdiction and government
were unknown in their tongue *
1
Before this important change is admitted, men muſt
be accuſtomed to the diſtinction of ranks; and before they
are ſenſible that ſubordination is requiſite, they muſt
have arrived at unequal conditions by chance. In defiring
property, they only mean to ſecure their ſubſiſtence: but
the brave who lead in war, have likewiſe the largeſt ſhare
in its ſpoils. The eminent are fond of deviſing hereditary
honours; and the multitude, who admire the parent, are
ready to extend their eſteem to his offspring.
M
Possessions deſcend, and the luſtre of family grows
brighter with age. Hercules, who perhaps was an emi-
nent warrior, became a god with poſterity, and his race
was ſet apart for royalty and fovereign power. When
the diſtinctions of fortune and thoſe of birth are conjoin-
ed, the chieftain enjoys a pre-eminence, as well at the
feaſt as in the field. His followers take their place in
ſubordinate ſtations'; and inſtead of conſidering them-
* Hiſtory of the Caribbees.
31
ſelves
ris
:
Sect. 3. Impreſions of Property and Intereſt.
153
Telves as parts of a community, they rank as the follow-
ers" of a chieftain, and take their deſignation from the
name of their leader. They find a new object of public af-
fection, in defending his perſon, and in ſupporting his
ſtation ; they lend of their ſubſtance to form his eſtate ;
they are guided by his ſmiles and his frowns; and court,
as the higheſt diſtinction, a ſhare in the feaſt which
their own contributions have furniſhed.
As the former ſtate of mankind ſeemed to point at
democracy, this ſeems to exhibit the rudiments of mo-
narchical government. But it is yet far ſhort of that
eſtabliſhment which is known in after ages by the name
of monarchy. The diſtinction between the leader and the
follower, the prince and the ſubject, is ſtill but imper-
fectly marked: their purſuits and occupations are not
different; their minds are not unequally cultivated; they
feed from the fame diſh ; they ſleep together on the
ground; the children of the king, as well as thoſe of
the ſubject, are employed in tending the flock; and the
keeper of the ſwine was a prime counſellor at the court
of Ulyffes.
1
The chieftain, ſufficiently diſtinguiſhed from his tribe,
to excite their admiration, and to flatter their vanity by a
ſuppoſed affinity to his noble deſcent, is the object of their
veneration, not of their envy: he is conſidered as the com-
mon bond of connection, not as their common maſter;
is foremoſt in danger, and has a principal ſhare in their
U
troubles :
1
154
Part 11.
Of Rude Nations under the
troubles : his glory is placed in the number of his atten.
dants, in his ſuperior magnanimity and valour; that of
his followers, in being ready to ſhed their blood in his
ſervice *
The frequent practice of war tends to ſtrengthen the
bands of ſociety, and the practice of depredation itſelf
engages men in trials of mutual attachment and courage.
What threatened to ruin and overſet every good difpofi-
tion in the human breaſt, what ſeemed to baniſh juſtice
from the ſocieties of men, tends to unite the fpecies in
clans and fraternities; formidable, indeed, and hoſtile to
one another, but in the domeſtic ſociety of each, faithful,
diſintereſted, and generous. Frequent dangers, and the
experience of fidelity and valour, awaken the love of
thoſe virtues, render them a ſubject of admiration, and
endear their poffeffors.
ACTUATED by great paflions, the love of glory, and
the deſire of victory; rouſed by the menaces of an enemy,
or ftung with revenge ; in ſuſpenſe between the proſpects
of ruin or conqueſt, the barbarian ſpends every moment
of relaxation in the indulgence of ſloth. He cannot de-
fcend to the purſuits of induſtry or mechanical labour: the
beaſt of prey is a ſluggard : the hunter and the warrior
sleeps, while women or ſlaves are made to toil for his
bread. But thew him a quarry at a diſtance, he is bold,
* Tacitus de moribus Germanorum,
impetuous,
Sect. 3.
Impreſſions of Property and Intereſ.
155
impetạous, artful, and rapacious: no bar can withſtand
his violence, and no fatigue can allay his activity.
Even under this deſcription mankind are generous
and hoſpitable to ſtrangers, as well as kind, affectionate,
and gentle, in their domeſtic ſociety * Friendſhip and
enmity are to them terms of the greateſt importance:
they mingle not their functions together; they have
ſingled out their enemy, and they have choſen their
friend. Even in depredation, the principal object is
glory; and ſpoil is conſidered as a badge of victory.
Nations and tribes are their prey: the ſolitary traveller,
by whom they can acquire only the reputation of genero-
ſity, is ſuffered to paſs unhurt, or is treated with ſplendid
munificence.
THOUGH diſtinguiſhed into ſmall cantons under their
ſeveral chieftains, and for the moſt part ſeparated by
jealouſy and animoficy ; yet when preſſed by wars and
formidable enemies, they ſometimes unite in greater
bodies. Like the Greeks in their expedition to Troy, they
follow ſome remarkable leader, and compoſe a kingdom
of
many ſeparate tribes. But ſuch coalitions are merely
occaſional ; and even during their continuance, 'inore re-
femble republic than monarchy. The inferior chieftains
reſerve their importance, and intrude, . with an air of
equality, into the councils of their leader, as the people
* Jean du Plaa Carpen. Rubruquis, Cæſar, Tacit.
U
of
1
156
Part II.
Of Rude Nations under the
T
of their ſeveral clans commonly intrude upon them *.
Upon what motive indeed could we ſuppoſe, that men
who live together in the greateſt familiarity, and amongſt
whom the diſtinctions of rank are ſo obſcurely marked,
would reſign their perſonal ſentiments and inclinations, or
pay an implicit ſubmiſſion to a leader who can neither
overawe nor corrupt ?
MILITARY force muſt be employed to extort, or the
hire of the venal to buy, that engagement which the
Tartar comes under to his prince, when he promiſes,
" That he will go where he ſhall be commanded ; that
" he will come when he ſhall be called ; that he will kill
“ whoever is pointed out to him ; and, for the fu-
ture,
that he will conſider the voice of the King as a
66 ſword t."
1
1
1
These are the terms to which even the ſtubborn
heart of the barbarian has been reduced, in conſequence
of a deſpotiſm he himſelf had eſtabliſhed ; and men
have, in that low ſtate of the commercial arts, in Europe,
as well as in Aſia, tafted of political llavery. When in-
tereſt prevails in every breaſt, the ſovereign and his party
cannot eſcape the infection: he employs the force with
which he is intruſted, to turn his people into a property,
and to command their pofleffions for his profit or his
* Kolbe ; Deſcription of the Cape of Good Hope.
+ Simon de St. Quintin.
pleaſure.
Sect. 3. Impreſions of Property and Intereſt.
157
pleaſure. If riches are by any people made the ſtandard
of good and of evil, let them beware of the
powers they
intruſt to their prince. “ With the Suiones," ſays Ta-
citus, “ riches are in high eſteem ; and this people are
accordingly difarmed, and reduced to ſlavery *."
It is in this woful condition that mankind, being ſlaviſh,
intereſted, inſidious, deceitful, and bloody, bear marks,
if not of the leaſt curable, ſurely of the moſt lamentable,
ſort of corruption f. Among them, war is the mere
practice of rapine, to enrich the individual; commerce is
turned into a ſyſtem of ſnares and impoſitions ; and go
vernment by turns oppreſſive or weak.
Ir were happy for the human race, when guided by
intereſt, and not governed by laws, that being ſplit into
nations of a moderate. extent, they found in every can-
ton fome natural bar to its further enlargement, and
met with occupation enough in maintaining their in-
dependence, without being able to extend their do-
minion.
There is not diſparity of rank; among men in rude
ages, ſufficient to give their communities the form of
legal monarcliy'; and in a territory of.confiderable ex-
tent, when united. under one head, the warlike and tur-
bulent ſpirit of its inhabitants ſeems to require the bridle
of deſpotiſm and military force. Wliere any degree of
".
.
* De moribus Germanorum.
+ Chardin's Travels,
freedom
}
1
158
Part II.
Of Rude Nations under the
1
-freedom remains, the powers of the prince are, as they
were in moſt of the rude monarchies of Europe, extremely
precarious, and depend chiefly on his perſonal character:
·where, on the contrary, the powers of the prince are
above the controul of his people, they are likewiſe above
the reſtrictions of law. Rapacity and terror become the
predominant motives of conduct, and form the character
of the only parties into which mankind are divided, that
of the oppreſſor, and that of the oppreſſed.
?
This calamity threatened Europe for ages, under the
conqueſt and ſettlement of its new inhabitants *. It has
actually taken place in Aſia, where ſimilar conqueſts
have been made ; and even without the ordinary opiates
of effeminacý, or a ſervile weakneſs, founded on luxury,
it has ſurpriſed tħe Tartar on his wain, in the rear of his
herds. Among this people, in the heart of a great con-
tinent, bold and enterpriſing warriors aroſe : they ſub-
dued, by ſurpriſe, or fuperior abilities, the contiguous
hóards; they gained, in their progreſs, acceſſions of num-
bers and of trength; and, like a torrent increaſing as
it deſcends, became too ſtrong for any bar that could
be oppoſed to their paſſage. The conquering tribe, dur-
ing a fucceflion of ages, furniſhed the prince with his
guards; and while they themſelves were allowed to ſhare
* Sec Hume's hiſtory of the Tudors. There ſeemed to be nothing wanting
to eſtabliſh a perfect deſpotiſm in that houſe, but a few regiments of troops under
the command of the crowo.
7
in
1
Sect, 3:
Impreſions of Property and Intereſt.
159
in' its fpoils, were the voluntary tools of oppreſſion.
In this manner has deſpotiſm and corruption made their
way into regions ſo much renowned for the wild freedom
of nature: a power which was the terror of every effemi-
nate province is diſarmed, and the nurſery of nations is
itſelf gone to decay *.
1
WHERE rude nations eſcape this calamity, they re :
quire. the exerciſe of foreign wars to maintain domeſtic
peace: when no enemy appears from abroad, they have
leiſure for private feuds, and employ that courage in their
diffenfions at home, which, in time of war, is employed
in defence of their country.
.
I
1
" AMONG the Gauls,” ſays Cæſar, " there are ſubdivi-
" fions, not only in every nation, and in every diſtrict and
“ village, but almoft in every houſe, every one muſt fly
" to ſome patron for protection t.". In this diſtribution
of parties, not only the feuds of clans, but the quarrels
of families, even the differences and competitions of
individuals, are decided by force. The ſovereign, when
unaſliſted by ſuperſtition, endeavours in vain to employ.
his juriſdiction, or to procure a fubmiffion to the deciſions
of law. By a people who are accuſtomed to
poffeffions to violence, and who deſpiſe fortune itſelf
without the reputation of courage, no umpiré is admitted
owe their
1
* See the Hiſtory of the Huns.
4
+ De Bello Gallico, lib. 6.
-but
160
Of Rude Nations under the Part II.
1
but the ſword. Scipio offered his arbitration to termi-
nate the competition of two Spaniards in a diſputed fuc-
ceflion: “ That,” ſaid they, “we have already refuſed
to our relations: we do not ſubmit our difference to the
“ judgment of men ; and even among the gods, we ap-
peal to Mars alone *.”
1
It is well known that the nations of Europe carried
this mode of proceeding to a degree of formality un-
heard of in other parts of the world: the civil and cri-
ininal judge could, in moſt caſes, do no more than
ap-
point the lifts, and leave their parties to decide their cauſe
by the combat: they apprehended that the victor had a
verdict of the gods in his favour: and when they dropped
in any inſtance this extraordinary form of proceſs, they
ſubſtituted in its place ſome other more capricious appeal
to chance;, in which they likewiſe thought that the judge-
ment of the gods was declared.
The fierce nations of Europe were often fond of the
combat as an exerciſe and a ſporț
. In the abſence of
real quarrels, companions challenged each other to a
trial of ſkill, in which one of them frequently periſhed.
When Scipio celebrated the funeral of his father and his
runcle, the Spaniards came in pairs to fight, and, by ,a
public exhibition of their duels, to increaſe the folem-
nity t.
*
Livy.
it Ib. lib. 3.
IN
F
}
1
1
7
{
L
Sect. 3. Impreſſions of Property and Intereſt. 161
In this wild and lawleſs ſtate, where the effects of true
religion would have been ſo deſirable, and ſo falutary,
ſuperſtition frequently diſputes the aſcendant even with
the admiration of valour ; and an order of men, like the
Druids among the ancient Gauls and Britons *, or ſome
pretender to divination, as at the Cape of Good Hope,
finds, in the credit which is paid to his ſorcery, a way to
the poſſeſſion of power: his magic wand comes in com-
petition with the ſword itſelf; and, in the manner of the
Druids, gives the firſt rudiments of civil government to
fome, or, like the ſuppoſed deſcendant of the ſun among
the Natchez, and the Lama among the Tartars, to others,
an early taſte of deſpotiſm and abſolute ſlavery,
ret
1
We are generally at a loſs to conceive how mankind
can ſubſift under cuſtoms and manners. extremely dif-
ferent from our own; and we are apt to exaggerate the
miſery of barbarous times, by an imagination of what
we ourſelves ſhould ſuffer in a ſituation to which we are
not accuſtomed. But every age hath its confolations, as
well as its ſufferings t. In the interval of occaſional out .
rages,
-1
* Cæfar.
ul
+ Priſeus, when employed on an embaſſy to Attila, was accoſted in Greek, by
a perſon who wore the dreſs of a Scythian. Having expreſſed ſurpriſe, and being
deſirous to know the cauſe of his ſtay in ſo wild a company, was told, that this Greek
had been a captive, and for ſome time a ſlave, till he obtained his liberty in reward of
ſome remarkable action. " I live more happy here," ſays he, “than ever I did
“ under the Roman govcrament: for they who live with the Scythians, if they can
" endure
X
1
*
162
Part II.
Of Rude Nations under the
rages, the friendly intercourſes of men, even in their
rudeſt condition, is'affectionate and liappy *. In rude
ages, the perſons and properties of individuals are ſecure;
becauſe each has a friend, as well as an enemy; and if
the one is diſpoſed to moleſt, the other is ready to pro-
tect ; and the very admiration of valour, which in ſome
inſtances tends to ſanctify violence, inſpires. likewiſe cer-
tain maxims of generoſity and honour; that tend to prevent
the commiſſion of wrongs.
1
Men bear with the defects of their policy, as they do
with hardſhips and inconveniencies in their manner of
living. The alarms and the fatigues of war become a
neceſſary recreation to thoſe who are accuſtomed to them,
and who have the tone of their paſſion's raiſed above leſs
animating or trying occaſions. Old men, among the
courtiers of Attila, wept, when they heard of heroic
deeds, which they themſelves could no longer perform t.
And among the Celtic nations, when age rendered the
+
f
i
" endure the fatigues of war, have nothing clſe to moleft them; they enjoy their
es poſſeſſions undiſturbed.: whereas you are continually a prey to foreign enemies,
ac or 'to bad government : you are forbid to carry arms in your own defence;
you
ſuffer from the remiſſneſs and ill conduct of thoſe who are appointed.
us to protect you; the evils of peace are even worſe than thoſe of war ; no puniſh-
« ment is ever inflicted on the powerful or the rich; no mercy is ſhewn to the poor ;
" although your inſtitutions were wiſely deviſed, yet in the management of corrupted
" men, their effects are pernicious and cruel;" Excerpta de legationibus,
1
1
**.D! Arvieux's Hiſt, of the wild. Arabs.
}
Ibid,
+
2
1
warrior
1
+
.
.
1
they were, when afſembled in great bodies, addicted to
Secto:3. Impreſſions of Property and Intereſt. 163
warrior unfit for his former toils, it was the cuſtom, in
order to abridge the languors of a liſtleſs and inactive life,
to ſue for death at the hands of his friends *
WITH all this ferocity of ſpirit, the rude nations of
the Weſt were ſubdued by the policy and more regular
warfare of the Romans. The point of honour, which
the barbarians of Europe adopted as individuals, expoſed
them to a peculiar diſadvantage, by rendering them, even
in their national wars, averſe to aſſailing their enemy by
ſurpriſe, or taking the benefit of ſtratagem; and though
ſeparately bold and intrepid, yet, like other rude nations,
A
ſuperſtition, and ſubject to panics.
!
They were, from a conſciouſneſs of their perſonal
courage and force, fanguine on the eve of battle ; they
were, beyond the bounds of moderation, elated on ſucceſs,
and dejected in adverſity; and being diſpoſed to conſider
every event as a judgment of the gods, they were never
qualified by an uniform application of prudence, to make
the moſt of their forces, to repair their misfortunes, or
to improve their advantages.
1
1
1
* Ubi tranſcendit florentes viribus annos,
Impatiens ævi ſpernit noviſſe ſenectam.
1
Silius, lib. 1. 225.
X 2
RESIGNED
1
+
2
1
164 Of Rude Nations under, &c. Part II
Resigned to the government of affection and paſſiony,
they were generous and faithful where they had fixed an
attachment; implacable, froward, and cruel, where they
had conceived a diſlike : addicted to debauchery, and the
immoderate uſe of intoxicating liquors, they deliberated
on the affairs of ſtate in the heat of their riot; and in the
ſame dangerous moments, conceived the deſigns of mili-
tary enterpriſe, or terminated their domeſtic diffenfions by
the dagger or the ſword.
+
In their wars they preferred death to captivity. The
victorious armies of the Romans, in entering a town by
aſſault, or in forcing an incampment, have found the
mother in the act of deſtroying her children, that they
might not be taken ; and the dagger of the parent, red
with the blood of his family, ready to be plunged at laſt
into. his, qwn breaſt *.
In all theſe, particulars. we perceive that vigour of
fpirit, which renders diſorder itſelf reſpectable, and which
qualifies men, if fortunate in their ſituation, to lay the
baſis of domeſtic liberty, as well as to maintain againſt
föreign enemies their national independence and freedom.
* Liv, lib, xli. 11, Dio. Car..
1
1
}
1
.
도
​-
Sect.: I.
Of the Influence of, &c.
165
.
PART THIR D:
Of the Hiſtory of Policy and Arts.
ooo oooooooooooooo
Kodandookalichoolproopa
మంచం iodiacinakala
2001
SE CT:
I.
Of the Influences of Climate and Situation.
.
WHA
Want manners bis heations Peroute to the conditjen
+
HAT we have hitherto obſerved on the condition
and manners of nations, though chiefly derived
from what has paſſed in the temperate climates, may, in
ſome meaſure, be applied to the rude ſtate of mankind in
every part of the earth: but if we intend to purſue the
hiſtory of our ſpecies in its further attainments, we may
foon enter on ſubjects which will confine our obſervation,
to narrower limits.” The genius of political wiſdom and.
of civil arts appears to have choſen his ſeats in particu-
lar tracts of the earth, and to have ſelected his favourites.
in particular races of men..
+
Hai
1
Man, in his animal capacity, is qualified to fübfift in
every climate. He reigns with the lion and the tyger. un-
der the equatorial heats of the ſun, or he aſſociates with.
the
1
1
.
1
1
1
166
of the Influences of
Part III:
1
the bear and the rain-deer beyond the polar circle. His
verſatile diſpoſition fits him to aſſume the habits of either
condition, or his talent for arts enables him to ſupply its
defects. The intermediate climates, however, appear moſt
to favour his nature; and in whatever manner we account
for the fact, it cannot bé doubted, that this animal has
always attained to the principal honours of his ſpecies
within the temperate zone.
The arts, which he has on
this ſcene repeatedly invented, the extent of his reaſon,
the fertility of his fancy, and the force of his genius in
literature, commerce, policy, and war, fufficiently de-
clare either a diſtinguiſhed advantage of ſituation, or a
natural ſuperiority of mind.
A
The moſt remarkable races of men, it is true, have
been rude before they were poliſhed. They have in ſome
caſes returned to rudeneſs again: and it is not from the
actual poſſeſſion of arts, ſcience, or policy, that we are
to pronounce of their genius.
1
There is a vigour, a reach of capacity, and a fenfibi-
lity of mind, which may characteriſe as well the ſavage as
the citizen, the ſlave as well as the maſter; and the ſame
powers of the mind may be turned to a vațiety of pur-
poſes. A modern Greek, perhaps, is miſchievous, ſlaviſh,
and cunning, from the fame animated temperament that
made his anceſtor ardent, ingenious, and bold, in the
camp, of in the council of his nation. A modern Italian is
diſtinguiſhed by ſenſibility, quickneſs, and art, while he
employs on triffes the capacity of an ancient Roman ; and
exhibits
I
I
i
1.
}
A
1
Sect. I.
Climate and Situation.
167
exhibits now, in the ſcene of amuſement, and in the
ſearch of frivolous applauſe, that fire, and thoſe paf-
fions, with which Gracchus burned in the forum, and
fhook the aſſemblies of a ſeverer people.
The commercial and lucrative arts have been, in ſome
climates, the principal object of mankind, and have
been retained through every diſaſter ; in others, even un-
der all the fluctuations of fortune, they have ſtill been
neglected; while in the temperate climates of Europe and
Aſia, they have had their ages of admiration as well as
contempt.
In one ſtate of ſociety, arts are ſlighted, from that very
ardour of mind, and principle of activity, by which,
in another, they are practiſed with the greateit ſucceſs.
While men are ingroſſed by their paſſions, heated and
rouſed by the ſtruggles and dangers of their country ;
while the trumpet ſounds, or the alarm of ſocial engage-
ment is rung, and the heart beats high, it were a mark
of dullneſs, or of an abject ſpirit, to find leiſure for the
ftudy of eaſe, or the purſuit of improvements, which
have mere convenience or eaſe for their object.
+
11
1
1
The frequent viciſſitudes and reverſes of fortune, which
nations have experienced on that very ground where
the arts have proſpered, are probably the effects of a
buſy, inventive, and verſatile fpirit, by which men have
carried every national purſuit to extremes. They have
raiſed the fabric of deſpotic 'empire to its greateſt height,
where
.
1
168
Part III.
Of the Influences of
T
where they had beſt underſtood the foundations of free-
dom. They periſhed in the flames which they themſelves
had kindled ; and they only, perhaps, were capable of
diſplaying, by turns, the greateſt improvements, or the
loweſt corruptions, to which the human mind can be
brought.
+
:
.
On this ſcene, mankind have twice, within the com-
paſs of hiſtory, aſcended from rude beginnings to very
high degrees of refinement. In every age, whether de-
ſtined by its temporary diſpoſition to build or to deſtroy,
they have left the veſtiges of an active and vehement
ſpirit. The pavement and the ruins of Rome are buried
in duft, ſhaken from the feet of barbarians, who trod
with contempt on the refinements of luxury, and fpurned
thoſe arts, the uſe of which it was reſerved for the
poſterity of the ſame people to diſcover and to admire.
The tents of the wild Arab' are even now pitched among
the ruins of magnificent cities ; and the waſte fields which
border on Paleſtine and Syria, are perhaps become again
the nurſery of infant nations. The chieftain of an Arab
tribe, like the founder of Rome, may have already fixed
the roots of a plant that is to flouriſh in ſome future
period, or laid the foundations of a fabric, that will attain
to its grandeur in ſome diſtant age.
Great part of Africa has been always unknown ;
but the filence of fame, on the ſubject of its revolutions,
is an argument, where no other proof can be found, of
weakneſs in the genius of its people. The torrid zone,
every
1
1
+
1
7
.
1
+
Sect. I.
Climate and Situation
.
169
1
1
1
7
every where round the globe, however known to the
geographer, has furnished few materials for hiſtory; and
though in many places ſupplied with the arts of life in
no contemptible degree, has no where matured the more
important projects of political wiſdom, nor inſpired the
virtues which are connected with freedom, and which are
required in the conduct of civil affairs.
It was indeed in the torrid zone that merè arts of
mechaniſm and manufacture were found, among the
inhabitants of the new world, to have made the greatelt,
advance: it is in India, and in the regions of this hemiſ-
phere, which are viſited by the vertical ſun, that the
arts of manufacture, and the practice of commerce, are
of the greateſt antiquity, and have ſurvived, with the
ſmalleſt diminution, the ruins of time, and the revolu-
tions of empire.
The ſun, it ſeems, which ripens the pine-apple and
the tamarind, inſpires a degree of mildneſs that can
even aſſuage the rigours of deſpotical government: and
ſuch is the effect of a gentle and pacific diſpoſition in the
natives of the Eaſt, that no conqueſt, no irruption of bar-
barians, terminates, as they did among the ſtubborn na-
tives of Europe, by a total deſtruction of what the love
of eaſe and pleaſure had produced.
1
TRANSFERRED, without any great ſtruggle, from one
maſter to another, the natives of India are ready, upon
every change, to purſue their induſtry, to acquieſce in the
Y
enjoyment
1
1
1
170
Of the Influences of Part III.
enjoyment of life, and the hopes of animal pleaſure: the
wars of conqueſt are not prolonged to exaſperate the par-
ties engaged in them, or to deſolate the land for which
thoſe parties contend: even the barbarous invader leaves
untouched the commercial ſettlement which has not
provoked his rage : though maſter of opulent cities, lic
only incamps in their neighbourhood, and leaves to his
heirs the option of entering, by degrecs, on the pleaſures,
the vices, and the pageantries which his acquiſitions
afford : his ſucceſſors, ftill more than himſelf; are diſpo-
fed to foſter the hive, in proportion as they taſte more of
its ſweets; and they ſpare the inhabitant, together with
his dwelling, as they ſpare they herd or the flall, of whicli
they are become the proprietors.
The modern deſcription of India is a repetition of the
ancient, and the preſent ſtate of China is derived from a
diſtant antiquity, to which there is no parallel in the
hiſtory of mankind. The ſucceſſion of monarchs has been
changed; but no revolutions have affected the itate. The
African and the Samoiede are not more uniform in their
ignorance and barbarity, than the Chineſe and the In-
dian, if we may credit their own ſtory, have been in
the practice of manufacture, and in the obſervance of a
certain police, which was calculated only to regulate their
traffic, and to protect them in their application to ſervile
or lucrative arts.
)
Ir we paſs from theſe general repreſentations of what
mankind have done to the more minute deſcription of
the
+
Sect. I.
Climate and Situation.
171
the animal himſelf, as he has occupied different climates,
and is diverſified in his temper, complexion, and cha-
racter, we ſhall find a variety of genius correſpond-
ing to the effects of his conduct, and the reſult of his
ſtory.
Man, in the perfection of his natural faculties, is
quick and delicate in his ſenſibility; extenſive and va-
rious in his imaginations and reflections ; attentive, pe-
netrating, and ſubtile, in what relates to his fellow-crea-
tures ; firm and ardent in his purpoſes ; devoted to friend-
fhip or to enmity; jealous of his independence and his
honour, which he will not relinquiſh for ſafety or for
profit: under all his corruptions or improvements, he re-
tains his natural ſenſibility, if not his force; and his com-
merce is a bleſſing or a curſe, according to the direction
his mind has received.
But under the extremes of heat or of cold, the active
range of the human ſoul appears to be limited ; and men
are of inferior importance, either as friends, or as enc-
mies. In the one extreme, they are dull and flow, mo-
derate in their deſires, regular and pacific in their man-
ner of life ; in the other they are feveriſh in their paſ-
fions, weak in their judgments, and addicted by tem-
perament to animal pleaſure. In both the heart is mer
cenary, and makes important conceſſions for childiſh
bribes : in both the ſpirit is prepared for ſervitude: in the
one it is ſubdued by the fear of the future; in the other
it is not rouſed even by its ſenſe of the preſent.
Y 2
THE
172
Of the Influences of
Part III.
1
The nations of Europe who would ſettle or conquer
on the ſouth or the north of their own happier climates,
find little reſiſtance: they extend their dominion at plea-
fure, and find no where a limit but in the ocean, and in
the fatiety of conqueſt. With few of the pangs and the
ſtruggles that precede the reduction of nations, mighty.
provinces have been ſucceſſively annexed to the territory
of Ruſſia ; and its ſovereign, who accounts within his
domain, entire tribes, with whom perhaps none of his
emiffaries have ever converſed, diſpatched a few geome-
ters to extend his empire, and thus to execute a project,
in - which the Romans were obliged to employ their
conſuls and their legions * Theſe modern conquerors
complain of rebellion, where they meet with repug-
nance; and are ſurpriſed at being treated as enemies,
where they come to impoſe their tribute.
1
A
IT 'appears, however, that on the ſhores of the Eaſtern
ſea, they have met with nations † who have queſtioned
their title to reign, and who have conſidered the requiſi-
tion of a tax as the demand of effects for nothing. Here,
perhaps may be found the genius of ancient Europe,
and under its name of ferocity, the ſpirit of national inde-
pendence $; that fpirit which diſputed its ground in
Sec Ruſlian Atlas.
+ The Tchutzi.
f
I Notes to the Genealogical Hiſtory of the Tartars, vouched by Strahlenberg.
the
1
1
1
1
Sect. I.
Climate and Situation.
173
the Weſt with the victorious armies of Rome, and baffled
the attempts, of the Perſian monarchs to comprehend the
villages of Greece within the bounds of their extenſive
dominion.
The great and ſtriking diverſities which obtain be-
twixt the inhabitants of climates far removed from each
other, are, like the varieties of other animals in dif-
ferent regions, eaſily obſerved. The horſe and the rain-
deer are juſt emblems of the Arab and the Laplander:
the native of Arabia, like the animal for whoſe race his
country is famed, whether wild in the woods, or tutored
by art, is lively, active, and fervent in the exerciſe on
which he is bent. This race of men, in their rude ſtate,
fly to the deſert for freedom, and in roving bands alarm
the frontiers of empire, and ſtrike a terror in the province
to which their moving encampments advance * When
rouſed by the proſpect of conqueſt, or diſpoſed to act
on a plan, they ſpread their dominion, and their ſyſtem
of imagination, over mighty tracts of the earth : when
poſſeſſed of property and of ſettlement, they ſet the ex-
ample of a lively invention, and ſuperior ingenuity, in
the practice of arts, and the ſtudy of ſcience. The Lap-
lander, on the contrary, like the aſſociate of his climate,
is hardy, indcfatigable, and patient of famine ; dull ra-
ther than tame; ſerviceable in a particular tract; and
incapable of change. Whole nations continue from age
to age in the ſame condition, and, with immóveable
1
* D'Arvieux.
phlegm,
2
1
1
1
174
Part III.
Of the Influences of
phlegm, ſubmit to the appellations of Dane, of Swede, or
of Moſcovite, according to the land they inhabit; and ſuffer
their country to be ſevered like a common, by the line on
which thoſe nations have traced their limits of empire.
IT
It is not in the extremes alone that theſe varieties of
genius may be clearly diſtinguiſhed. Their continual
change keeps pace with the variations of climatc with
which we ſuppoſe them connected: and though certain
degrees of capacity, penetration, and ardour, are not the
lot of entire nations, nor the vulgar properties of any
people; yet their unequal frequency, and unequal mea-
fure, in different countries, are ſufficiently manifeſt from
the manners, the tone of converſation, the talent for
buſineſs, amuſement, and literary compoſition, which
pre-
dominate in each.
It is to the Southern nations of Europe, both ancient
and modern, that we owe the invention and the embel-
liſhment of that mythology, and thoſe early traditions,
which continue to furniſh the materials of fancy, and the
field of poetic alluſion. To them we owe the romantic
tales of chivalry, as well as the ſubſequent models of a
more rational ſtyle, by which the heart and the imagina-
tion are kindled, and the underſtanding informed.
The fruits of induſtry have abounded moſt in the
North, and the ſtudy of ſcience has here received its moſt
ſolid improvements: the efforts of imagination and ſenti-
ment
Sect. I.
Climate and Situation.
175
1
I
ment were moſt frequent and moſt ſucceſsful in the South.
While the ſhores of the Baltic became famed for the ftu-
dies of Copernicus, Tycho Brahe, and Kepler, thoſe of
the Mediterranean were celebrated for giving birth to men
of genius in all its variety, and for having abounded with
poets and hiſtorians, as well as with men of ſcience.
1
+
!
ON one ſide, learning took its riſe from the heart and
the fancy; on the other, it is ſtill confined to the judge-
ment and the memory. A faithful detail of public tranf-
actions, with little diſcernment of their comparative im-
portance.; the treaties and the claims of nations, the
births and genealogies of princes, are, in the literature of
Northern nations, amply, preſerved:; while. the lights of
the underſtanding, and the feelings of the heart, are ſuf-
fered to periſh. The hiſtory of the human character ; the
intereſting meinoir, founded no leſs on the careleſs pro-
ceedings of a private life, than on the formal tranſactions
of a public ſtation ; the ingenious pleaſantry, the pier-
cing ridicule, the tender, pathetic, or the elevated ſtrain
of elocution, have been confined in modern as well as
ancient times, with a few exceptions, to the famc latitudes
with the fig and the vine.
These diverſities of natural genius, if real, muſt have
great part of their foundation in the animal frame : and
it has been often obſerved, that the vine flouriſhes, where,
to quicken the ferments of the human blood, its aids arc
the leaſt required. Whilc fpirituous liquors are, among
Southern nations, from a fenfc of their ruinous effects,
prohibited;
4
--
176
Of the Influences of
Part III.
+
prohibited; or from a love of decency, and the poffeffion
of a temperament ſufficiently warm, not greatly deſired;
they carry in the North a peculiar charm, while they
awaken the mind, and give a taſte of that lively fancy
and arlour of paſſion, which the climate is found to
deny.
2
!
The melting deſires, or the fiery paſſions, which in
one climate take place between the ſexes, are in another
changed into a ſober confideration, or a patience of mu-
tual diſguſt. This change is remarked in croſſing the
Mediterranean, in following the courſe of the Miſſiſippi,
in aſcending the mountains of Caucaſus, and in paſſing
from the Alps and the Pyrenees to the ſhores of the
Baltic.
THE female ſex domineers on the frontier of Louiſiana,
by the double engine of fuperftition, and of paſſion. They
are ſlaves among the native inhabitants of Canada, and
are chiefly valued for the toils they endure, and the do-
ineſtic ſervice they yield *
1
The burning ardours, and the torturing jealouſies,
of the feraglio and the haram, which have reigned fo
long in Aſia and Africa, and which, in the Southern parts
of Europe, have ſcarcely given way to the difference of
religion and civil eſtabliſhments, are found, however,
with an abatement of heat in the climate, to be more ea-
A
* Charlevoix.
fily
i
1
Sect. I.
Climate and Situation.
177
fily changed, in one latitude, into a temporary paſion
which ingroſſes the mind, without enfeebling it, and
which excites to romantic atchievements : by a farther
progreſs to the North, it is changed into a ſpirit of gal-
lantry, which employs the wit and the fancy more than
the heart ; which prefers intrigue to enjoyment ; and ſub-
ſtitutes affectation and vanity, where ſentiment and deſire
have failed. As it departs from the ſun, the ſame paſſion
is farther compoſed into a habit of domeſtic connection,
or frozen into a ſtate of inſenſibility, under which the
ſexes at freedom ſcarcely chuſe to unite their ſociety.
These variations of temperament and character, do
not indeed correſpond with the number of degrees that
are meaſured from the equator to the pole ; nor does the
temperature of the air itſelf depend on the latitude. Va-
rieties of ſoil and poſition, the diſtance or neighbour-
lood of thc ſea, are known to affect the atmoſphere,
and may have ſignal effects in compoſing the animal
frame.
The climates of America, though taken under the
ſame parallel, are obſerved to differ from thoſe of Europe.
There extenſive marſhes, great lakes, aged, decayed, and
crouded foreſts, with the other circumſtances that mark
an uncultivated country, are ſuppoſed to repleniſh the
air with heavy and noxious vapours, that give a double
aſperity to the winter, and, during many months, by
the frequency and continuance of fogs, ſnow and froſt,
carry the inconveniencies of the frigid zone fat into the
tcmperate.
1
Z
178
Of the Influences of Part IIJ.
}
1
temperate. The Samoide and the Laplander, however,
have their counterpart, though on a lower latitude, on
tlie ſhores of America : the Canadian and the Iroquois
bear a reſemblance to the ancient inhabitants of the mid-
dling climates of Europe: the Mexican, like the Aſiatic
of India, being addicted to pleaſure, was ſunk in effemi-
nacy; and in the neighbourhood of the wild and the free,
had ſuffered to be raiſed on his weakneſs, a domineering
ſuperſtition, and a permanent fabric of deſpotical govern-
ment.
+
GREAT part of Tartary lies under the ſame parallels
with Greece, Italy, and Spain ; but the climates are
found to be different; and while the ſhores, not only of
the Mediterranean, but even thoſe of the Atlantic, are
favoured with a moderate change and viciſſitude of fea-
fons, the eaſtern parts of Europe, and the northern con-
tinent of Aſia, are afflicted with all their extremes. In
one ſeaſon, we are told, that the plagues of an ardent
ſummer reach almoſt to the frozen fea ; and that the in-
habitant is obliged to ſcreen himſelf from noxious vermin
in the ſame clouds of ſmoke in which he muſt, at a
different time of the year, take ſhelter from the rigours
of cold. When winter returns, the tranſition is rapid,
and with an aſperity almoſt equal in every latitude, lays
walte the face of the earth, from the northern confines
of Siberia, to the deſcents of Mount Caucaſus and the
frontier of India.
WITH
!
+
i
Sect. 1.
Climate and Situation.
179
WITH this unequal diſtribution of climate, by which
the lot, as well as the national character, of the Northern
Aſiatic may be deemed inferior to that of Europeans who
lie under the fame parallels, a ſimilar gradation of tempe-
rament and ſpirit, however, has been obſerved, in fol-
lowing the meridian on either tract; and the Southern
Tartar has over the Tonguſes and the Samoiede, the ſame
pre-eminence that certain nations of Europe'are known to
poffefs over their Northern neighbours, in ſituations more
advantageous to both.
1
The Southern hemiſphere ſcarcely offers a ſubject of
like obſervation. The temperate zone is there ſtill un-
diſcovered, or is only known in two promontories, the
Cape of Good Hope, and Cape Horn, which ſtretch into
moderate latitudes on that ſide of the line. But the ſavage
of South America, notwithſtanding the interpofition of
the nations of Peru and of Mexico, is found to reſem,
ble his counterpart on the North ; and the Hottentot,
in many things, the barbarian of Europe: he is tenacious
of freedom, has rudiments of policy, and a national vi-
gour, which ſerve to diſtinguiſh his race from the other
African tribes, who are expoſed to the inore vertical rays
of the fun.
more
1
WHILE we have, in theſe obſervations, only thrown
out what muſt preſent itſelf on the moſt curſory view of
the hiſtory of mankind, or what may be preſumed from the
mere obfcurity of ſome nations, who inhabit great tracts of
the
Z 2
u
1
180
Part III.
of the Influences of
1
the earth, as well as from the luſtre of others, we are
ſtill unable to explain the manner in which the climate
may affect the temperament, or foſter the genius, of its
inhabitant.
r
.!
THAT the temper of the heart, and the intellectual
operations of the mind, are, in ſome meaſure, dependent
on the ſtate of the animal organs, is well known from
experience. Men differ from themſelves in ſickneſs and
in health ; under a change of diet, of air, and of exerciſe:
but we are, even in theſe familiar inſtances, at a loſs how
to connect the cauſe with its ſuppoſed effect: and though
climatc, by including a variety of ſuch caſes, may, b.y
ſome regular influence, affect the characters of men, we
can never hope to explain the manner of thoſe influences
till we have underſtood what probably we ſhall never un-
derſand, the ſtructure of thoſe finer organs with which
the operations of the ſoul are connected.
2
I
When we point out, in the ſituation of a people,
circumſtances which by determining their purſuits, re-
gulate their habits, and their manner of life ; and when
inſtead of referring to the ſuppoſed plıyſical ſource of
their diſpoſitions, we aflign tlieir inducements to a deter-
minate conduct ; in this we ſpeak of effects and of caufes
whole connection is more familiarly known.
underſtand, for inſtance, why a race of men like the Sa-
inoiede, confined, during great part of the year, to dark-
neſs, or retired into caverns, ſhould differ, in their man-
ners and apprehenſions, from thoſe who are at liberty in
every
We can
1
Sect. I.
Climate and Situation.
181
every ſeaſon; or who, inſtead of ſeeking relief from the
extremities of cold, are employed in ſearch of precautions
againſt the oppreſſions of a burning ſun. Fire and ex-
erciſe are the remedies of cold; repoſe and ſhade the
ſecurities from heat. The Hollander is laborious and
induſtrious in Europe ; he becomes more languid and
Rothful in India *
GREAT extremities, either of heat or cold, are, per-
haps, in a moral view, equally unfavourable to the active
genius of mankind, and by preſenting alike inſuperable
difficulties to be overcome, or ſtrong inducements to in-
dolence and noth, cqually prevent the firſt applications of
ingenuity, or limit their progreſs. Some intermediate de-
grees of inconvenience in the ſituation, at once excite the
fpirit, and, with the hopes of ſucceſs, encourage its ef-
forts. “ It is in the leaſt favourable ſituations,” ſays Mr.
Rouſſeau, “ that arts have flouriſhed the moſt. I could
" ſhow them in Egypt, as they ſpread with the overflow-
ing of the Nile; and in Africa, as they mounted up to
" the clouds, from a rocky ſoil and from barren fands ;
“ while on the fertile banks of the Eurotas, they were not
4 able to faſten their roots.”
Wuere mankind from the firſt fubfiſt by toil, and in
the midſt of difficulties, the effects of their ſituation
u
* The Dutch ſailors who were employed in the fiege of Malaco, tore or burnt
the fail-cloth which was given them to make tents, that they might not have the
trouble of making or pitching them. Vay, de Matelief:
are
+
I
-
1
1
182
of the Influences of Part IIT.
are ſupplied by induſtry: and while dry, tcmpting, and
healthful lands are left uncultivated *, the peftilent marſh
is drained with great labour, and the ſea is fenced off with
mighty barriers, the materials and the coſts of which, the
ſoil to be gained can ſcarcely afford, or repay.
Harbours
are opened, and crouded with ſhipping, where vefſels of
burden, if they are not conſtructed with a view to the
ſituation, have not water to float. Elegant and magnificent
edifices are raiſed on foundations of ſlime; and all the
conveniencies of human life are made to abound, where
nature does not ſeem to have prepared a reception for
men. It is in vain to expect, that the reſidence of arts
and commerce ſhould be determined by the poſſeſſion of
natural advantages. Men do more when they have cer-
tain difficulties to ſurmount, than when they 'have fup-
poſed bleſſings to enjoy: and the ſhade of the barren oak
and the pine are more favourable to the genius of man-
kind, than that of the palın or the tamarind.
Anóng the advantages which enable nations to run
the career of policy, as well as of arts, it may be expect-
ed, from the obſervations already made, that we ſhould
reckon every circumſtance which enables them to divide
and to maintain themſelves in diſtinct and independent
communities. The ſociety and concourſe of other men,
are not more neceſſary to form the individual, than the
rivalſhip and competition of nations are to invigorate the
3
1
* Compare the ſtate of Hungary with that of Holland.
3
principles
1
am
4
1
1
183
1
Sect. I.
Climate and Situation.
principles of political life in a ſtate. Their wars, and
their treaties, their mutual jealouſies, and the eſtabliſh-
ments which they deviſe with a view to each other, con-
ſtitute more than half the occupations of mankind, and
furniſh materials for their greateſt and moſt improving
exertions. For this reaſon, cluſters of iſlands, a continent
divided by many natural barriers, great rivers, ridges of
mountains, and arms of the ſea, are beſt fitted for becom-
ing the nurſery of independent and reſpectable nations.
The diſtinction of ſtates, being clearly maintained, a prin-
ciple of political life is eſtabliſhed in every diviſion, and
the capital of every diſtrict, like the heart of an animal
body, communicates with eaſe the vital blood and the
national ſpirit to its members.
។
1
1
The moſt reſpectable nations have always been found
where at leaſt one part of the frontier has been waſhed
by the ſea. This barrier, perhaps the ſtrongeſt of all in
the times of barbarity, does not, however, even then
ſuperſede the cares of a national defence; and in the ad-
vanced ſtate of arts, gives the greateſt ſcope and facility
to commerce.
1
THRIVING and independent nations were accordingly
ſcattered on the ſhores of the Pacific and the Atlantic. They
ſurrounded the Red fea, the Mediterranean, and the Bal-
tic; while, a few tribes excepted, who retire among the
mountains bordering on India and Perſia, or who have
found ſome rude eſtabliſhment among the creeks and the
ſhores
!
184
Part III.
Of the Influences of
+
ſhores of the Caſpian and the Euxine, there is ſcarcely a
people in the vaſt continent of Aſia, who deſerves the
name of a nation. The unbounded plain is traverſed at
large by hordes, who are in perpetual motion, or who are
diſplaced and haraſſed by their mutual hoſtilities. Al-
though tlicy are never perhaps actually blended together
in the courſe of hunting, or in the ſcarch of paſture, they
cannot bear one great diſtinction of nations, which is
taken from the territory, and which is decply impreſſed by
an affection to the native ſeat. They move in troops,
without the arrangement or the concert of nations; they
become eaſy acceſſions to every new empire among them-
ſelves, or to the Chineſe and the Muſcovite, with whom
they hold a traffic for the ineans of ſubſiſtence, and the
materials of pleaſure.
!
Where a happy ſyſtem of nations is formed, they
do not rely for the continuance of their ſeparate names,
and for that of their political independence, on the bar-
riers erected by nature. Mutual jealouſies lead to the
maintenance of a balance of power ; and this principle,
more than the Rhine and the Ocean, than the Alps and
the Pyrences in modern Europe ; more than the ſtraits of
Thermopylæ, the mountains of Thrace, or the bays of
Salamine and Corinth in ancient Greece ; tended to pro-
long the ſeparation, to which the inhabitants of theſe
happy climates have owed their felicity as nations, the
lufre of their fame, and their civil accompliſhments.
IF
--
Sect. I.
Climate and Situation.
185
If we mean to purſue the hiſtory of civil fociety, our
attention muſt be chiefly directed to ſuch examples, and
we muſt here bid farewel to thoſe regions of the earth,
on which our ſpecies, by the effects of ſituation or climate,
appear to be reſtrained in their national purſuits, or in-
ferior in the powers of the mind.
S E C T.
II.
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
E have hitherto obſerved mankind, either united
together on terms of equality, or diſpoſed to admit
of a ſubordination founded merely on the voluntary re-
ſpect and attachment which they paid to their leaders ; but,
in both caſes, without any concerted plan of government,
or ſyſtem of laws.
4
THE ſavage, whoſe fortune is compriſed in his cabin,
his fur, and his arms, is ſatisfied with that proviſion,
and with that degree of ſecurity, he himſelf can procure.
He perceives, in treating with his equal, no ſubject of
diſcuſſion that ſhould be referred to the deciſion of a
judge; nor does he find in any hand the badges of magi-
ſtracy, or the enſigns of a perpetual command.
The barbarian, though induced by his admiration of
perſonal qualities, the luſtre of a heroic race, or a fupe.
Aa
riority
1
1
L
!
186
Part III.
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
riority of fortune, to follow the banners of a leader, and
to act a ſubordinate part in his tribe, knows not, that
what he performs from choice, is to be made a ſubject of
obligation. He acts from affections unacquainted with
forms; and when provoked, or when engaged in diſputes,
he recurs to the ſword, as the ultimate means of deciſion,
in all queſtions of right.
?
HUMAN affairs, in the mean time, continue their pro-
greſs. What was in one generation a propenſity to herd
with the ſpecies, becomes, in the ages which follow, a
principle of national union. What was originally an alli-
ance for common defence, becomes a concerted plan of
political force ; the care of ſubſiſtence becomes an anxiety
for accumulating wealth, and the foundation of com-
mercial arts.
MANKIND, in following the preſent ſenſe of their
minds, in ſtriving to remove inconveniencies, or to gain
apparent and contiguous advantages, arrive at ends which
even their imagination could not anticipate, and paſs on,
like other animals, in the track of their nature, without
perceiving its end.
He who firſt ſaid, “ I will appro-
priate this field ; I will leave it to my heirs ;" did not
perceive, that he was laying the foundation of civil laws
and political eſtabliſhments. He who firſt ranged him-
ſelf under a leader, did not perceive, that he was ſetting
the example of a permanent ſubordination, under the
pretence of which, the rapacious were to ſeize his poffef-
lions, and the arrogant to lay claim to his ſervice.
MEN,
-
7
!
1
Sect. 2.
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
187
0
Men, in general, are ſufficiently diſpoſed to occupy
themſelves in forming projects and ſchemes: but he who
would ſcheme and project for others, will find an oppo-
nent in every perſon who is a {poſed to ſcheme for himſelf.
Like the winds, that come we know not whence, and
blow whitherſoever they lift, the forms of ſociety are de-
rived from an obſcure and diſtant origin; they ariſe, long
before the date of philoſophy, from the inſtincts, not
from the ſpeculations, of men. . The croud of mankind,
are directed in their eſtabliſhments and meaſures, by the
circumſtances in which they are placed ; and ſeldom are
turned from their way, to follow the plan of any ſingle
projector.
Every ſtep and every movement of the multitude, even
in what are termed enlightened ages, are made with equal
blindneſs to the future; and nations ſtumble
and nations ſtumble upon eſtabliſh-
ments, which are indeed the reſult of human action, but
not the execution of any human deſign * If Cromwell
ſaid, That a man never mounts higher, than when he
knows not whither he is going; it may with more reaſon
bé affirmed of communities, that they admit of the
greateſt revolutions where no change is intended, and that
the moſt refined politicians do not always know whither
they are leading the ſtate by their projects.
If we liſten to the teſtimony of modern hiſtory, and
to that of the moſt authentic parts of the ancient ; if we
attend to the practice of nations in every quarter of the
world, and in every condition, whether that of the bar-
* De Retz Memoirs.
barian
Aa 2
+
188
Part III,
The Hiſory of Suberdination.
)
4
barian or the poliſhed, we ſhall find very little reaſon to
retract this ailertion. No conſtitution is formed by con-
cert, no government is copied from a plan. The mem-
bers of a ſmall ſtate contend for equality ; the members
of a grcater, find themſelves claſſed in a certain manner
that lays a foundation for monarchy. They proceed from
une form of government to another, by eaſy tranſitions,
and frequently under old names adopt a new conſtitution.
The ſeeds of every form are lodged in human nature ;
they ſpring up and ripen with the ſeaſon. The prevalence.
of a particular ſpecies is often derived from an impercep-
tiblc ingredient mingled in the ſoil.
We are therefore to receive, with caution, the traditio-
nary hiſtories of ancient legiflators, and founders of ſtates.
Their names have long been celebrated; their ſuppoſed
plans have been admired ; and what were probably the
conſequences of an early ſituation, is, in every inſtance,
conſidered as an effect of deſign. An author and a work,
like cauſe and effect, are perpetually coupled together.
This is the ſimpleſt form under which we can conſider the
eſtablifhment of nations: and we aſcribe to a previous de-
ſign, what came to be known only by experience, what no
human wiſdom could foreſee, and what, without the con-
curring humour and diſpoſition of his age, no authority
could enablc an individual to execute.
If men, during ages of extenſive reflection, and employed.
in the ſearch of improvement, are wedded to their inſtitu-
tions; and, labouring under many acknowledged incon-
veniencies,
+
I
1
Sect. 2.
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
189
V
veniencies, cannot break looſe from the trammels of cuf-
tom; what ſhall we ſuppoſe their humour to have been in
the times of Romulus and Lycurgus? They were not ſurely
more diſpoſed to embrace the ſchemes of innovators, or to
ſhake off the ‘impreſſions of habit: they were not more
pliant and ductile, wlien their knowledge was leſs; not
more capable of refinement, when their minds were more
circumſcribed.
+
d
We imagine, perhaps, that rude nations muſt have, fo
ſtrong a ſenſe of the defects under which they labour,
and be ſo conſcious that reformations are requiſite in their
manners, that they muſt be ready to adopt, withi joy, cvery.
plan of improvement, and to receive every plauſible propo ..
ſal with implicit compliance. And we are thus inclined to
believe, that the larp of Orpheus could effect, in one
.
age, what the eloquence of Plato could not: produce in
another. We miſake, however, the characteriſtic of ſimple
ages : mankind then appear to feel the feweſt defects, and
are then leaſt deſirous to enter on reformations,
1
The reality, in the mean time, of certain eſtablilli-
ments at Rome and at Sparta, cannot be diſputed: but
it is probable, that the government of both tlieſe ſtates
took its riſe from the ſituation and genius of the people;
not from the projects of ſingle men ; that the celebrated
warrior and ſtateſman, who are conſidered as the founders
of thoſe nations, only acted a ſuperior part among num-
bers who were diſpoſed to the ſame inftitutions; and
that
+
:
190
Part III.
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
that they left to poſterity a renown, pointing them out as
the inventors of many practices which had been already
in uſe, and which helped to form their own manners and
genius, as well as thoſe of their countrymen.
It has been formerly obſerved, that, in many particu-
lars, the cuſtoms of fimple nations coincide with what is
aſcribed to the invention of early ſtateſmen ; that the
model of republican government, the ſenate, and the aſ-
ſembly of the people ; that even the equality of property,
or the community of goods, were not reſerved to the in-
:vention or contrivance of ſingular men.
1
If we conſider Romulus as the founder of the Roman
ftate, certainly he who killed his brother that he might
reign alone, did not deſire to come under reſtraints from
the controuling power of the ſenate, nor to refer the
.councils of his ſovereignty to the deciſion of a collective
body. Love of dominion is, by its nature, averſe to con-
ſtraint ; and this chieftain, like every leader in a rude
age, probably found a claſs of men ready to intrude on
his councils, and without whom he could not proceed.
He met with occaſions, on which, as at the found of a
trumpet, the body of the people aſſembled, and took re-
ſolutions, which any individual might in vain diſpute,
or attempt to controul; and Rome, which commenced on
the general plan of every artleſs ſociety, found laſting
improvements in the purſuit of temporary expedients,
and
1
A
Sect. 2.
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
191
and digeſted her political frame in adjuſting the preten-
fions of parties which aroſe in the ſtate.
1
ort
MANKIND, in very early ages of ſociety, learn to cover
riches, and to admire diſtinction : they have avarice and
ambition, and are occaſionally led by theſe paſſions to
depredation and conqueſt : but in their ordinary conduct,
are guided or reſtrained by different motives; by ſloth, or
intemperance; by perſonal attachments, or perſonal ani-
mofities ;. which miſlead from the attention to intereſt.
Theſe motives, or habits render mankind, at times, remiſs
or outrageous: they prove the ſource of civil peace or of
civil diſorder, but diſqualify thoſe who are actuated by
them, from maintaining any fixed ufurpation; ſlavery and
rapine in the caſe of every community are firſt threatened
from abroad, and war, either offenſive or defenſive, is the
great buſineſs of every tribe. The enemy occupy their
thoughts ; they have no leiſure for domeſtic diſſenſions. It
is the deſire of every ſeparate community, however, to
ſecure itſelf; and in proportion as it gains this object, by
ſtrengthening its barrier, by weakening its enemy, or by
procuring allies, the individual at-home bethinks him of
what he may gain or loſe for himſelf: the leader is dif-
poſed to enlarge the advantages which belong to his
ftation; the follower becomes jealous of rights which are
open to incroachment; and parties who united before,
from affection and habit, or from a regard to their com-
mon preſervation, diſagree in ſupporting their ſeveral
claims to precedence or profit.
WHEN
1
?
192
Part III.
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
+
а.
WHEN the animoſities of faction are thus awakened
at home, and the pretenſions of freedom are oppoſed to
thoſe of dominion, the members of every ſociety find
a new ſcene upon which to exert their activity. They
had quarrelled, perhaps, on points of intereſt; they liad
balanced between different leaders; but they had never
united as citizens, to withſtand the encroachments of fo-
vereignty, or to maintain their common rights as
people. If the prince, in this conteſt, finds numbers to
fupport, as well as to oppoſe his pretenſions, the ſword
which was whetted againſt foreign enemies, may be
pointed at the boſom of fellow-ſubjects, and every inter-
val of peace from abroad, be filled with domeſtic war.
The ſacred names of Liberty, Juſtice, and Civil Order,
are made to reſound in public aſſemblies; and, during the
abſence of other alarms, give to fociety, within itſelf, an
abundant ſubject of ferment and animoſity.
If what is related of the little principalities which, in
ancient times, were formed in Greece, in Italy, and over
all' Europe, agrees with the character we have given of
mankind under the firſt impreſſions of property, of in-
tereſt, and of hereditary diſlinctions ; the feditions and
domeſtic wars which followed in thoſe very ſtates, the
expulſion of their kings, or the queſtions which aroſe
concerning the prerogatives of the ſovereign, or privilege
of the ſubject, are agreeable to the repreſentation which
we now give of the firſt ſtep toward political eſtabliſh-
ment, and the deſire of a legal conſtitution.
WHAT
!
1
Sect. 2. The Hiſtory of Subordination.
193
WHAT this conſtitution may be in its earlieſt form,
depends on a variety of circumſtances in the condition
of nations: It depends on the extent of the principality
in its rude ſtate ; on the degree of diſparity to which
mankind had ſubmitted before they began to diſpute its
abuſes: it depends likewiſe on what we term accidents, the
perſonal character of an individual, or the events of
a
-
0
a war.
Every community is originally a ſmall one. That
propenſity by which mankind at firſt unite, is not the
principle from which they afterwards act in extending
the limits of empire.. Small tribes, where they are not
aſſembled by common objects of conqueſt or ſafety, are
even averſe to a coalition. If, like the real or fabulous
confederacy of the Greeks for the deſtruction of Troy,
many nations combine in the purſuit of a ſingle object,
they eaſily ſeparate again, and act anew on the maxims of
rival ſtates.
There is, perhaps, a certain national extent, within
which the paſſions of men are eaſily communicated from
one, or a few, to the whole; and there are certain num-
bers of men who can be aſſembled, and act in a body.
If, while the ſociety is not enlarged beyond this dimen-
fion, and while its members are eaſily afſembled, poli-
tical contentions ariſe, the ſtate ſeldom fails to proceed
on republican maxims, and to eſtabliſh democracy. In
moſt rude principalities, tlic leader derived his preroga-
tive from the luſtre of his race, and from the voluntary
Bb
attachment
194
Part III.
The Hiſtory of Sibortlination.
attachment of his tribe: the people he commanded, were:
his friends, his ſubjects, and his troops. If we ſuppoſe,
upon any change in their manners, that they ceaſe to
revere his dignity, that they pretend to equality among
themſelves, or are ſeized with a jealouſy of his afirming
too much, the foundations of his power are already with-
drawn. When the voluntary ſubject becomes refracto-
ry; when conſiderable parties, or the collective body,
chuſe to act for themſelves; the ſmall kingdom, like that
of Athens, becomes of courſe a republic.
1
1
The changes of condition, and of manners, which, in
the progreſs of mankind, raiſe up to nations a leader
and a prince, create, at the ſame time, a nobility, and a
variety of ranks, who have, in a ſubordinate degree,
their claim to diſtinction. Superſtition, too, may create
an order of men, who, under the title of prieſthood, en-
gage in the purſuit of a ſeparate intereſt; who, by their
union and firmneſs as a body, and by their inceſſant
ambition, deſerve to be reckoned in the liſt of pretenders
to power.
Theſe different orders of men are the ele-
ments of whoſe mixture the political body is generally.
formed; each draws to his ſide ſome part from the maſs,
of the people. The people themſelves are a party upon
occaſion ; and numbers of men, however claſſed and .
diſtinguiſhed, become, by their jarring pretenſions and
ſeparate views, mutual interruptions and checks; and ;
have, by bringing to the national councils the maxims
and apprehenſions of a particular order, and by guard-
ing
5
1
Sect. 2.
195
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
ing a particular intereſt, a ſhare in adjuſting or preſerving
the political form of the ſtate.
1
The pretenſions of any particular order, if not checked
by ſome collateral power, would terminate in tyranny ;
thoſe of a prince, in deſpotiſm; thoſe of a nobility or
prieſthood, in the abuſes of ariſtocracy; of a populace,
in the confuſions of anarchy. Theſe terminations, as they
are never the profeſſed, ſo are they ſeldom even the diſ-
guiſed, object of party : but the meaſures which any
party purſues, if ſuffered to prevail, will lead, by degrees,
to every extreme.
+
1
IN their way to the aſcendant they endeavour to gain,
and in the midſt of interruptions which oppoſite intereſts
mutually give, liberty may have a permanent or a tran-
fient exiſtence; and the conſtitution may bear a form and
a character as various as the caſual combination of fucli
multiplied parts can effect.
1+
1
/
To beſtow on communities fome degree of political
freedom, it is perhaps ſufficient, that their members, ei-
ther ſingly, or as they are involved with their ſevera!
orders, ſhould inſiſt on their rights; that under republics,
the citizen ſhould either maintain his own equality with
firmneſs, or reſtrain the ambition of his fellow-citizen
within moderate bounds: that under monarchy; men of
every rank ſhould maintain the honours of their private
or their public ſtations; and facrifice, neither to the im-
poſitions of a court, nor to the claims of a populace, thoſe
Bb be
dignitics
1
1
196
Part III.
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
dignities which are deſtined, in ſome meaſure, indepen-
dent of fortune, to give ſtability to the throne, and to
procure a reſpect to the fubjcct.
AMIDST the contentions of party, the intereſts of the.
public, even the maxims of juſtice and candour, are
ſometimes forgotten ; and yet thoſe fatal conſequences
which ſuch a meaſure of corruption ſeems to portend, d
not unavoidably follow. The public intereft is often
fecure, not becauſe individuals are diſpoſed to regard it
as the end of their conduct, but becauſe each, in his
place, is determined to preſerve his own. Liberty is main-
tained by the continued differences and oppoſitions of
numbers, not by their concurring zeal in behalf of equi-
table government. In free ſtates, therefore, the wiſeſt
laws are never, perhaps, dictated by the intereſt and ſpirit
of any order of men : they are moved, they are oppoſed,
or amended, by different lands; and come at laſt to ex-
preſs that medium and compoſition which contending
parties have forced one another to adopt.
WHEN we conſider the hiſtory of mankind in this
view, we cannot be at a loſs for the cauſes which, in
ſmall communities, threw the balance on the ſide of de-
mocracy; which, in ſtates more enlarged in reſpect to
territory and numbers of people, gave the aſcendant to
monarchy; and which, in a variety of conditions and of
different ages, enabled mankind to blend and unite the
characters of different forms; and, inſtead of any of the
fimple
uici. 2.
197
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
ſimple conſtitutions we have mentioned *, to exhibit a
medly of all.
.
In emerging from a ſtate of rudeneſs and ſimplicity,
men muſt be expected to act from that fpirit of equality,
or moderate ſubordination, to which they have been ac-
cuſtomed. When crouded together in cities, or within
tlie compaſs of a ſmall territory, they act by contagious
paſſions, and every individual feels a degree of import-
ance proportioned to his figure in the croud, and the
ſmallneſs of its numbers. The pretenders to power and
đominion appear in too familiar a light to impoſe upon
the multitude, and they have no aids at their call, by
which they can bridle the refractory humours of a people
who reſiſt their pretenſions. Theſeus, King of Attica,
we are told, aſſembled the inhabitants of its twelve can-
tons into one city. In this he took an effectual method to
unite into one democracy, what were before the ſeparate
members of his monarchy, and to haſten the downfall of.
the regal power.
1
*
The monarch of an extenſive territory has many ad-
vantages in maintaining his ſtation. Without any grie-
vance to his ſubjects, he can ſupport the magnificence of
a royal eſtate, and dazzle the imagination of his people,
by that very wealth which themſelves have beſtowed.
He can employ the inhabitants of one diſtrict againſt thoſe
of another; and while the paſſions that lead to mutiny.
* Part. 1, ſect. 10.
andi
!
198
Part III,
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
1
and rebellion, can at any one time ſeize only on a part
of his ſubjects, he feels himſelf ſtrong in the poſſeſſion of
a general authority. Even the diſtance at which he re-
ſides from any of thoſe who receive his commands, aug-
ments the myſterious awe and reſpect which are paid to
his government.
With theſe different tendencies, accident and corrup-
tion, however, joined to a variety of circumſtances, may
throw particular ſtates from their bias, and produce ex-
ceptions to every general rule. This has actually liap-
pened in ſome of the later principalities of Greece, and
modern Italy, in Sweden, Poland, and the German empire.
But the united ſtate of the Netherlands, and the Swiſs
cantons, are perhaps the moſt extenſive communities,
which maintaining the union of nations, have, for any
conſiderable time, reſiſted the tendency to monarchical
government; and Sweden is the only inſtance of a repub-
lic eſtabliſhed in a great kingdom on the ruins of mo-
narchy.
+
"
The ſovereign of a petty diſtrict, or a ſingle city, when
not ſupported, às in modern Europe, by the contagion of
monarchical manners, holds the ſceptre by a precarious
tenure, and is perpetually alarmed by the ſpirit of mutiny
in his people, is guided by jealouſy, and ſupports himſelf
by ſeverity, prevention, and force.
The popular and ariſtocratical powers in a great na-
tion, as in the caſe of Germany and Poland, may meet
with
1
1
>
Sect. 2.
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
199
L
with cqual difficulty in maintaining their pretenſions ;
and in order to avoid their danger on the ſide of kingly
uſurpation, are obliged to with-hold from the ſupreme
magiſtrate even the neceſſary truſt of an executive power.
ไป
A
1
h,
The ſtates of Europe, in the manner of their firſt ſet-
tlement, laid the foundations of monarchy, and were pre-
pared to unite under regular and extenſive governments.
If the Greeks, whoſe progreſs at home terminated in the
eſtabliſhment of ſo many independent republics, had un-
der Agamemnon effected a conqueſt and a ſettlement in
Aſia, it is probable, that they might have furniſhed an
example of the ſame kind. But the original inhabitants.
of any country, forming many ſeparate cantons, come by
flow-degrees to that coalition and union into which con-
quering tribes are, in effecting their conqueſts, or in fe-
curing their poſſeſſions, hurried at once. Cæſar encoun-
tered ſome hundreds of independent nations in Gaul,
whom even their common danger did not ſufficiently
unite. The German invaders, who ſettled in the lands of
the Romans, made, in the ſame diſtrict, a number of ſe-
parate eſtabliſhments, but far more extenſive than what
the ancient Gauls, by their conjunctions and treaties, or
in the reſult of their wars, could after. many ages have:
reached.
The ſeeds of great monarchies, and the roots of exten-
five dominion, were every where planted with the colo-..
nies that, divided the Roman empire. We have no exact:
account:
1
A
200
The Hiſtory of Subordination. Part III.
and of the numbers, who, with a ſeeming concert,
continued, during ſome ages, to invade and to ſeize this
tempting prize. Where they expected reſiſtance, they
endeavoured to inuſter up a proportionable force ; and
when they propoſed to ſettle, entire nations removed to
ſhare in the ſpoil. Scattered over an extenſive province,
where they could not be ſecure, without maintaining
their union, they continued to acknowledge the leader
under whom they had fought; and, like an army ſent
by diviſions into ſeparate ſtations, were prepared to af-
ſemble whenever occaſion ſhould require their united
operations or counſels.
+
1
I
Every ſeparate party had its poft aſſigned, and every
fubordinate chieftain his poſſeſſions, from which he was
to provide his own ſubſiſtence, and that of his followers.
The model of government was taken from that of a mi-
litary ſubordination, and a fief was the temporary pay
of an officer proportioned to his rank * There was a
claſs of the people deſtined to military ſervice, another to
labour, and to cultivate lands for the benefit of their
maſters. The officer improved his tenure by degrees, firſt
changing a temporary grant into a tenure for his life ;
and this alſo, upon the obſervance of certain conditions,
into a grant including his heirs.
The rank of the nobles became hereditary in every
quarter, and formed a powerful and permanent order of
* See Dr. Robertſon's Hiſtory of Scotland, b. 1. Dalrymple's Hiſtory of feudal
Tenures.
men
1
201
+
Sect. 2.
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
men in very ſtate. While they held the people in ſervi-
tude, they diſputed the claims of their ſovereign ; they
withdrew their attendance upon occaſion, or turned their
arms againſt him. They formed a ſtrong and inſurmount-
able barrier againſt a general deſpotiſm in the ſtate ; but
they were themſelves, by means of their warlike retainers,
the tyrants of every little diſtrict, and prevented the
eſtabliſhment of order, or any regular applications of law.
They took the advantage of weak reigns or minorities, to
puſh their incroachments on the ſovereign ; or having
made the monarchy elective, they by ſucceſſive treaties
and ftipulations, at every election, limited or undermined
the monarchical power. The prerogatives of the prince
have been, in ſome inſtances, as in that of the German
empire in particular, reduced to a mere title; and the na-
tional union itſelf preſerved in the obſervance only of a
few inſignificant formalities.
1
re-
Where the conteſt of the ſovereign, and of his vaſſals,
under hereditary and ample prerogatives annexed to the
crown, had a different iſſue, the feudal lordſhips were
gradually ſtript. of their powers, the nobles were
duced to the ſtate of ſubjects, and obliged to hold their.
honours, and exerciſe their juriſdictions, in a dependence
on the prince. It was his ſuppoſed intereſt to reduce
them to a ſtate of equal ſubjection with the people, and to
extend his own authority, by reſcuing the labourer and
the dependent from the oppreſſions of their immediate
ſuperiors.
Сс
IN
+
-
202
The Hiſtory of Subordination. Part III.
1
In this project the princes of Europe have variouſly
fucceeded. While they protected the people, and thereby
encouraged the practice of cominercial and lucrative arts,
they paved the way for deſpotiſm in the ſtate; and with
the ſame policy by which they relieved the ſubject from
many oppreſſions, they increaſed the powers of the crown.
.
But where the people had by the conſtitution a repre-
ſentative in the government, and a head, under which
they could avail themſelves of the wealth they ac-
quired, and of the ſenſe of their perſonal importance, thisi
policy turned againſt the crown ; it formed a new power
to reſtrain the prerogative, to eſtabliſh the government of
law, and to exhibit a ſpectacle new in the hiſtory of
inankind ; monarchy mixed with republic, and exten-,
five territory, governed, during ſome ages; without mili-
tary force.
f
Such were the fteps by which the nations of Europe
12ve arrived at their preſent eſtabliſhments : in ſome in-
Nances, they have come to the poffeflion of legal conſti-
tutions ; in others, to the exerciſe of a mitigated deſpotiſm;
or they continue to ſtruggle with thie tendency which they
ſeverally have to theſe different extremes.
The progreſs of empire, in the carly ages of Europe,
threatened to be rapid, and to bury the independent ſpirit
of nations in a grave like that which the Ottoman con-
querors found for themſelves, and for the wretched race
thcy
1
1
1
Sect. 2
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
1
203
they had vanquifhed. The Romans had by flow degrees
extended their empire ; they had made every new acquiſi-
tion in the reſult of a tedious war, and had been obliged
to plant colonies, and to employ a variety of meaſures, to
ſecure every new poſſeſſion. But the feudal ſuperior being
animated, from the moment he gained an eſtabliſhment,
with a deſire of extending his territory, and of enlarging
the liſt of his vaſſals, procured, by merely beſtowing inveſ-
titure, the annexation of new provinces, and became the
maſter of ſtates, before independent, without making
any material innovation in the form of their policy.
1
+
I
SEPARATE' principalities were, like the parts of an en-
gine, ready to be joined, and, like the materials of a
building, ready to be erected. They were in the reſult of
their ſtruggles put together or taken afunder with facility.
The independence of weak ſtates was preſerved only by
the mutual jealouſies of the ſtrong, or by the general at-
tention of all to maintain a balance of power.
The happy ſyſtem of policy on which European ſtates
have proceeded in preſerving this balance; the degree of
moderation which is, in adjuſting their treaties, become
habitual even to victorious and powerful monarchies, docs
honour to mankind, and may give hopes of a laſting feli-
city to be derived from a prepoſſeſſion, never, perhaps,
equally ſtrong in any former period, or among any num-
ber of nations, that the firſt conquering people will ruin
thiemſelves, as well as their rivals.
*
1
2
"
CC 2
IT:
1
1
204
Part IIF.
The Hiſtory of Subordinationi.
It is in ſuch ſtates, perhaps, as in a fabric of a large
dimenſion, that we can perceive moſt diſtinctly the ſeve-
ral parts of which a political body conſiſts ; and obſerve
that concurrence or oppoſition of intereſts, which ſerve to
unite or to ſeparate different orders of men, and lead
them, by maintaining their ſeveral claims, to eſtabliſh a
variety of political forms. The ſmalleſt republics, how-
ever, conſiſt of parts ſimilar to theſe, and of members
who are actuated by a ſimilar fpirit. They furniſh exam-
ples of government diverſified by the caſual combinations
of parties, and by the different advantages with which
thoſe parties engage in the conflict.
1
t
În every ſociety there is a caſual ſubordination, inde-
pendent of its formal eſtabliſhment, and frequently ad:
verſe to its conftitution. While the adminiſtration and the
people ſpeak the language of a particular form, and ſeem
to admit no pretenſions to power, without å legal nomi-
nation in one inſtance, or without the advantage of here:
ditary honours in another, this caſual ſubordination,
poſſibly ariſing from the diſtribution of property, or from
ſome other circumſtance that beſtows, unequal degrees
of influence, gives the ſtate its tone, and fixes its cha-
racter.
1
The plebeian order at Rome having been long con-
ſidered as of an inferior condition, and excluded from the
higher offices of magiſtracy, had ſufficient force; as a bo-
dy, to get this invidious diſtinction removed; but the
individual ſtill acting under the impreſſions of a ſubordi-
nate
5
Sect. 2.
The Hiſtory of Subordination.
205.
nate rank, gave in every competition his fuffrage to a pa-
trician, whoſe protection he had experienced, and wliofe
perſonal authority he felt. By this means the aſcendency
of the patrician families was, for a certain period, as re-
gular as it could be made by the avowed maxims of
ariſtocracy; but the higher offices of ſtate being gradually
ſhared by plebcians, the effects of former diſtinctions
were prevented or weakened. The laws that were made
to adjuſt the pretenſions of different orders were eaſily
eluded. The populace became a faction, and their alli-
ance was the fureſt road' to dominion. Clodius, by a
pretended adoption into a plebeian family, was qualified
to become tribune of the people; and Cæfar, by eſpou-
ſing the cauſe of this faction, made his way to uſurpation
and tyranny.
-
11
In ſuch fleeting and tranſient ſcenes, forms of govern-
ment are only modes of proceeding, in which ſucceſſive
ages differ from one another. Faction is ever ready to
ſeize all occaſional advantages ; and mankind, when in
hazard from any, party, feldom find a better protection:
than that of its rival. Cato united with Pompey in oppo-
fition to Cæſar, and guarded againſt nothing ſo much-as
that reconciliation of parties, which was in effect to be a
combination of different leaders againſt the freedom of the
republic. This illuſtrious perſonage ſtood diſtinguiſhed in
his age like a man among children, and was raiſed above
his opponents, as much by the juſtneſs of his underſtand-
ing, and the extent of his penetration, as he was by the
manly:
1
206 The Hiſtory of Subordination. Part III.
1
manly fortitude and diſintereſtedneſs with which he ſtrove
to baffle the deſigns of a vain and childiſh ambition, that
was operating to the ruin of mankind.
ALTHOUGH free conſtitutions of government ſeldom or
never take their riſe from the ſcheme, of any ſingle pro-
jector, yet are they often preſerved by the vigilance, acti-
vity, and zeal, of ſingle men. Happy are they who under-
ſtand and who chuſe this object of care; and happy it is
for mankind when it is not choſen too late. It has been
reſerved to ſignalize the lives of a Cato or a Brutus, on the
eve of fatal revolutions ; to foſter in ſecret the indignation
of Thraſea and Helvidius ; and to occupy the reflections
of ſpeculative men in times of corruption. But even in
ſuch late and ineffectual examples, it was happy to know,
and to value, an object which is ſo important to mankind.
The purſuít, and the love of it, however unſucceſsful, has
thrown a luſtre on human nature.
4
+
$
1
I
1
Sect. 3.
Of National Objets, &c.
207
ment
S E C T.
III.
of National Objects in general, and of Eſtabliſhments and
Manners relating to them.
S
1
V
!
1
HILE the mode of ſubordination is caſual; and
forms of government take their riſe, chiefly from
the manner in which the members of a ſtate have been
originally claſſed, and from a variety of circumſtances
that procure to particular orders of men a ſway in their
country, there are certain objects that claim the attention
of every government, that lead the apprehenſions and the
reaſonings of mankind in every ſociety, and that not only
furnith an employment to ſtateſmen, but in fomne mea-
ſure direct the community to thoſe inſtitutions, under
the authority of which the magiſtrate holds his power,
Such are the national defence, the diſtribution of juſtice,
the preſervation and internal proſperity of the ſtate. If
theſe objects be neglected, we muſt apprehend that the
very ſcene in which parties contend for power, for pri-
vilege, or equality, muſt diſappear, and ſociety itſelf no
+
longer exift.
+
The confideration due to theſe objects will be pleaded
in every public aſſembly, and will produce; in every poli-
tical conteſt, appeals to that common ſenſe and opinion
of mankind, which, ſtruggling with the private views
7
of
1
1
208
Of National Objects;
Part III.
of individuals, and the claims of party, may be conſidered
as the great legiſlator of nations.
The meaſures required for the attainment of moſt na-
itional objects, are connected together, and muſt be jointly
purſued: they are often the ſame. The force which is
prepared for defence againſt foreign enemies, may be like-
wiſe employed to keep the peace at home: the laws made
to ſecure the rights and liberties of the people, may ſerve
as encouragements to population and commerce : and
every community, without conſidering how its objects
may be claſſed or diſtinguiſhed by ſpeculative men, is, in
every inſtance, obliged to aſſume or to retain that form
which is beſt fitted to preſerve its advantages, or to avert
its misfortunes.
.
Leone
NATIONS, however, like private men, have their favou-
rite ends, and their principal purſuits, which diverſify
their manners, as well as their eſtabliſhments. They
even attain to the ſame ends by different means; and, like
men who make their fortune by different profeſſions, rem
tain the habits of their principal calling in every condition
at which they arrive. The Romans became wealthy in
purſuing their conqueſts ; and probably, for a certain
period, increaſed the numbers of 'mankind, while their
diſpoſition to war ſeemed to threaten the earth with deſo-
lation. Some modern nations proceed to dominion and
enlargement on the maxims of commerce ; and while
the only intend to accumulate riches at home, continue
to gain an imperial aſcendant abroad.
1
th
THE
Sect. 3
and of Eſtabliſhments and Manners.
209
The characters of the warlike and the commercial are
variouſly combined: they are formed in different degrees
by the influence of circumſtances that more or leſs frc-
quently give riſe to war, and excite the deſire of con-
queſt; of circumſtances that leave a people in quiet to
improve their domeſtic reſources, or to purchaſe, by the
fruits of their induſtry, from foreigners, what their own
foil and their climate deny,
The members of every community are more or leſs
occupied with matters of ſtate, in proportion as their
conſtitution admits them to a ſhare in the government, ,
and ſummons up their attention to objects of a public
nature. A people are cultivated or unimproved in their
talents, in proportion as thoſe talents are employed in
the practice of arts, and in the affairs of ſociety: they are
improved or corrupted in their manners, in proportion
as they are encouraged and directed to act on the maxims
of freedom and juſtice, or as they are degraded into a
ſtate of meanneſs and ſervitude. But whatever advantagés
are obtained, or whatever evils are avoided, by nations,
in any of theſe important reſpects, are generally conſidered
as mere occaſional incidents : they are ſeldom admitted
among the objects of policy, or entered among the reaſons
of ſtate.
We hazard being treated with ridicule, when we re-
quire political eſtabliſhments, merely to cultivate the ta-
lents of men, and to inſpire the ſentiments of a liberal
mind: we muſt offer ſome motive of intereſt, or ſome
Dd
hopes
210
4
Of Population and Wealth.
Part III.
hopes of external advantage, to animate the purſuits, or
to direct the meaſures, of ordinary men. They would be
brave, ingenious, and eloquent, only from neceſſity, or
for the ſake of profit : they magnify the uſes of wealth,
population, and the other reſources of war; but often
forget that theſe are of no conſequence without the di-
rection of able capacities, and without the ſupports of a
national vigour. We may expect, therefore, to find among
ftates the bias to a particular policy, taken from the re-
gards to public ſafety; from the deſire of ſecuring perſonal
freedom, or private property ; feldom from the confide-
ration of moral effects, or from a view to the genius of
mankind,
2
12
-r
,
SECT.
IV
1
Of Population and Wealth.
HEN we imagine what the Romans muſt have
felt when the tidings came that the flower of
their city had periſhed at Cannæ ; when we think of
what the orator had in his mind when he ſaid, 6 That
“ the youth among the people was like the ſpring among
" the ſeaſons ;" when we hear of the joy with which the
huntſman and the warrior is adopted, in America, to ſuf-
tain the honours of the family and the nation; we are
made to feel the moſt powerful motives to regard the
increaſe and preſervation of our fellow-citizens. Intereſt,
affection,
1
1
Sect. 4.
Of Population and Wealth.
2II
affection, and views of policy, combine to recommend this
object; and it is treated with entire neglect only by the
tyrant who miſtakes his own advantage, by the ſtateſman
who trifles with the charge committed to his care, or by
the people who are become corrupted, and who conſider
their fellow-ſubjects as rivals in intereſt, and competitors
in their lucrative purſuits,
AMONG rude ſocieties, and among ſmall communities
in general, who are engaged in frequent ſtruggles and
difficulties, the preſervation and increaſe of their members
is a moſt important object. The American rates his de-
feat from the numbers of men he has loft, or he eſti-
mates his victory from the priſoners he has made ; not
from his having remained the maſter of a field, or from
his being driven from a ground on which he encoun-
tered his enemy. A man with whom he can aſſociate in
all his purſuits, whom he can embrace as his friend;
in whom he finds an object to his affections, and an
aid in his ſtruggles, is to him the moſt precious acceflion
of fortune.
*
Even where the fricndſhip of particular men is out of
the queſtion, the ſociety, being occupied in forming a
party that may defend itſelf, and annoy its enemy, finds no
object of greater moment than the increaſe of its num-
bers. Captives who may be adopted, or children of
cither ſex who may be reared for the public, are ac-
cordingly conſidered as the richeſt ſpoil of an enemy. The
practice of the Romans in admitting the vanquiſhed :10
D d 2
Thare
}
2:12
Part 13
Of Population and Wealth.
fhare in the privileges of their city, the rape of the Sa--
-bines, and the ſubſequent coalition with that people, were
not fingular or uncommon examples in the hiſtory of
mankind. The ſame policy has been followed, and was
natural and obvious where-ever the ſtrength of a ſtate
conſiſted in the arms of a few, and where men were valued
in themſelves, diſtinct from the confideration of eſtate or
of fortune.
+
1
In rude ages, therefore, while mankind fubfiſt in ſmall
diviſions, it ſhould appear, that if the earth be thinly
peopled; tliis defect' does not: ariſe from a: diſregard to
numbers on the part of ſtates. It is even probable, that
the moſt effectual courſe that could: be taken to increafe
the ſpecies, would be, to prevent the coalition of nations,
and to oblige mankind' to act in ſucht ſmall bodies as
would make the preſervation of their numbers a princi-
pal object of their care. This alone; it is true, would not
be ſufficient: we muſt probably add the encouragement.
for rearing families, which mankind enjoy under a fa-
vourable policy, and the means of ſubſiſtence which they
owe to the practice of arts..
The mother is. unwilling to increaſe her offspring,
and is ill provided to rear them, where ſhe herſelf is;
obliged to undergo great hardſhips in the ſearch of her
food. In North America, we are told, that he joins to the
reſerves of a cold of, a moderate temperament, the abſti-
nencies to which ſhe ſubmits - from the confideration of
this. difficulty. In her: apprehenſion, it is matter of pru-
dence,
Sect. 4.
Of Population and Wealthy
.
dence, and of conſcience, to bring one child to the condi-
tion of feeding on veniſon, and of following on. foot;
before ſhe will. hazard a new burden in travelling, the
woods.
:
1
IN warmer latitudes, by the different temperament,
perhaps, which the climate beſtows, and by a greater:
facility in procuring ſubſiſtence, the numbers of man:
kind increaſe, while the object itſelf is neglected ; and
the commerce of tlie ſexes, without any concern för po .
pulation, is made a ſubject of mere debauch. In ſome
places, we are told, it is even made the object of a bar-
barous policy, to defeat or to reſtrain tlie intentions of
In the iſland of Formoſa, the males are prohibited
to marry before the age of forty; and females, if preg-
nant before the age of thirty-fix, have an abortion pro-
cured by order of the magiſtrate; who employs a violence
that endangers, the life of the mother, together with that
of the.child *
nature.
IN China, the permiſſion given to parents to kill or to
expoſe their children, was probably meant as a relief
from the burden of a numerous offspring. But notwith-
ftanding what we hear of a practice fo repugnant to the
human heart, it" has not, probably, the effects in reſtrain-
ing population, which it ſeems to. threaten ;. but, like,
many other inſtitutions, has an influence the reverſe. of
what it ſeemed to portend. The parents marry with this
means of relief in their view, and the children are faved..
* Collection of Dutch voyages.
i
However
214
Part III,
Of Population and Wealth.
1
1
However important the object of population may be
held by mankind, it will be difficult to find, in the hiſtory
of civil policy, any wiſe or effectual eſtabliſhments ſolely
calculated to obtain it. The practice of rude or feeble na-
tions is inadequate, or cannot . ſurmount the obſtacles
which are found in their manner of life. The growth of
induſtry, the endeavours of men to improve their arts, to
extend their commerce, to ſecure their poſeſſions, and to
eſtabliſh their rights, are indeed the moſt effectual means
to promote population : but they ariſe from a different
motive; they ariſe from regards to intereſt and perſonal
ſafety. They are intended for the benefit of thoſe who
cxiſt, not to procure the increaſe of their numbers.
It is, in the mean time, of importance to know, that
where a people are fortunate in their political eſtablida-
ments, and ſucceſsful in the purſuits of induſtry, their
population is likely to grow in proportion. Moſt of the
other devices thought of for this purpoſe, only ſerve to
fruſtrate the expectations of mankind, or to miſlead their
attention.
1
In planting a colony, in ſtriving to repair the occaſional
waſtes of peftilence or war, the immediate contrivance
of ſtateſınen may be uſeful ; but if in reaſoning on the
increaſe of mankind in general, we overlook their free-
dom, and their happineſs, our aids to population be-
come weak and ineffectual. They only lead us to work
on the ſurface, or to purſue a ſhadow, while we neglect
the ſubſtantial .concern; and in a decaying itatc, make
L
US
1
Sect. 4.
215
1
Of Population and Wealth.
us tamper with palliatives, while the roots of an evil are
fuffered to remain. Octavius revived or inforced the laws
that related to population at Rome: but it may be faid
of him, and of many ſovereigns in a ſimilar ſituation, that
they adminiſter the poiſon, while they are deviſing the
remedy; and bring a damp and a palſy on the principles
of life, while they endeavour, by external applications to
the ſkin, to reſtore the bloom of a decayed and a fickly
1
body.
sky
Ir is indeed happy for mankind, that this important
object is not always dependent on the wiſdom of fove-
reigns, or the policy of ſingle men. A people intent on
freedom, find for themſelves a condition in which they
may follow the propenſities of nature with a more ſignal
effect, than any which the councils of ſtate could deviſe.
When ſovereigns, or projectors, are the ſuppoſed maſters
of this ſubject, the beſt they can do, is to be cautious of
hurting an intereſt they cannot greatly promote, and of
making breaches they cannot repair.
" “ When nations were divided into ſmall territories,
"and petty commonwealths, where each man had his
« houſe and his field to himſelf, and each county had its
capital free and independent; what a happy ſituation
" for mankind,” ſays Mr. Hume, “ how favourable to
induſtry and agriculture, to marriage and to popula-
16 tion !" Yet here were probably no ſchemes of the
ſtateſinan for rewarding the married, or for puniſhing
the ſingle ; for inviting foreigners to ſettle, or for prohi-
biting
4
1
1
216
Part III,
Of Population and Wealih.
1
biting the departure of natives. Every citizen finding
a poſſeſſion ſecure, and a proviſion for his heirs, was not
diſcouraged by the gloomy fears of oppreſſion or want:
and where every other function of nature was free, that
which furniſhed the nurſery could not be reſtrained. Na-
ture has required the powerful to be juſt; but ſhe has not
otherwiſe intruſted the preſervation of her works to their
viſionary plans. What fewel can the ſtateſman add to the
fires of youth ? Let him only not ſmother it, and the ef-
fect is ſecure. Where we oppreſs or degrade mankind
with one hand, it is vain, like Octavius, to hold out in
the other, the baits of marriage, or the whip to barren-
nefs. It is vain to invite new inhabitants from abroad,
while thoſe we already poſſeſs are made to hold their te-
nure with uncertainty ; and to tremble, not only under
che proſpect of a numerous family, but even under that
of a precarious and doubtful ſubſiſtence for themſelves.
The arbitrary ſovereign, who has made this the condi-
tion of his ſubjects, owes the remains of his people to the
powerful inſtincts of nature, not to any device of his own.
Men will croud where the fituation is tempting, and,
in a few generations, will people every country to
the meaſure of its means of ſubſiſtence. They will even
increaſe under .circumſtances that portend a decay. The
frequent wars of the Romans, and of many a thriving
community ; even the peſtilence, and the market for
flaves, find their ſupply, if, without deſtroying the ſource,
the drain become regular; and if an iſſue is made for
ithe
Sect. 4.
Of Population and Wealth
217
the offspring, without unſettling the families from which
they ariſe. Where a happier proviſion is made for man-
kind, the ſtateſman, who by premiums to marriage, by
allurements to foreigners, or by confining the natives at
home, apprehends, that he has made the numbers of his
people to grow, is often like the fly in the fable; who
admired its ſucceſs, in turning the wheel, and in moving
the carriage.: he has only accompanied what was already
in motion ; he has daſhed with his oar, to haften the ca-
taract, and waved with his fan, to give ſpeed to the
winds.
Projects of mighty ſettlement, and of ſudden popula-
tion, however ſucceſsful in the end, are always expenſive
to mankind. Above a hundred thouſand peaſants, we
are told, were yearly driven, like ſo many cattle, to Pe-
terſburgh, in the firſt attempts to repleniſh that fettle-
ment, and yearly perilaed for want of ſubſiſtence * The
Indian only attempts to ſettle in the neighbourhood of the
plantain t, and while his family increaſes, he adds a
tree to the walk.
If the plantain, the cocoa, or the palm, were fuffi-
cient to maintain an inhabitant, the race of men in the
warmer climates might become as numerous as the trees
of the foreſt. But in many parts of the earth, from the
nature of the climate, and the ſoil, the ſpontaneous pro-
1
* Strachlenberg.
Dampier,
Еe
duce
218
Part III.
Of Population and Wealth.
1
1
duce being next to nothing; the means of fubſiſtence are
the fruits only of labour and ſkill. If a people, while they
retain their frugality, increaſe their induſtry, and improve
their arts, their numbers muſt grow in proportion. Hence
it is, that the cultivated fields of Europe are more peopled
than the wilds of America, or the plains of Tartary.
!
But even the increaſe of mankind which attends the
accumulation of wealth, has its limits. The neceſary of
life is a vague and a relative term: it is one thing in the
opinion of the ſavage ; another in that of the poliſhed
citizen: it has a reference to the fancy, and to the habits
of living: While arts improve, and riches increaſe ; while
the poſſeſſions of individuals, or their proſpects of gain,
come up to their opinion of what is required to ſettle a
family, they enter on its cares with alacrity. But when
the poſſeſſion, however redundant, falls ſhort of the ſtan-
dard, and a fortune ſuppoſed ſufficient for marriage is
attained with difficulıy, population is checked, or begins
to decline. The citizen, in his own apprchcnſion, re-
turns to the ſtate of the favage; his children, lve thinks,
muft periſh for want; and he quits a ſcene overflowing
with plenty, becauſe he has not the fortune which his
ſuppoſed rank, or his wiſhes, require. No ultimate remedy
is applied to this evil, by merely accumulating wealth
for rare and coſtly materials, whatever theſe are, continue
to be fought ; and if filks and pearl are made common,
inen will begin to covet fome new decorations, which
the wealthy alone can procure.
If they are indulged
in
1
4
1
1
.
Sect.4
.
Of Population and Wealth.
219
1
}
1
in their humour, their demands are repeated : For it is
the continual increaſe of riches, not any meaſure attained,
that keeps the craving imagination at eaſe.
Men are tempted to labour, and to practiſe lucrative
arts, by motives of intereſt. Secure to the workman the
fruit of his labour, give him the proſpects of independence
or freedom, the public has found a faithful miniſter in
the acquiſition of wealth, and a' faithful ſteward in
hoarding what he has gained. The ſtateſman in this, as
in the caſe of population itſelf, can do little more than
avoid doing miſchief. It is well, if, in the beginnings of
commerce, he knows how to repreſs the frauds to which
it is ſubject. Commerce, if continued, is the branch in
which men committed to the effects of their own experi-
ence, are leaſt apt to go wrong.
The trader, in rude ages, is ſhort-ſighted, fraudulent,
and mercenary ; but in the progreſs and advanced ſtate
of his art, his views are enlarged, his imáxims are eſta-
bliſhed: he becomes punctual, liberal, faithful, and en-
terpriſing; and in the period of general corruption, he
alone has every virtue, except the force to defend his ac-
quiſitions. He needs no aid from the ſtate, but its pro-
tection; and is often in himſelf its moſt intelligent and
reſpectable member. Even in China, we are informed,
where pilfering, fraud and corruption, are the reigning
practice with all the other orders of men, the great mer-
chant is ready to give, and to procure confidence: while
his countrymen act on the plans and under the reſtric-
Еe 2
tions
1
1
A
1
i
220
Of Population and Wealth. Part III.
tions of a police adjuſted to knaves, he acts on the reaſons
of trade, and the maxims of mankind.
1
If population be connected with national wealth, liberty
and perſonal ſecurity is the great foundation of both:
and if this foundation be laid in the ſtate, nature has.
ſecured the increaſe and the induſtry of its members ; the
one by deſires the moſt ardent in the human frame; the
other by a conſideration the moſt uniform and conſtant
of any that poſſeſſes the mind. The great object of policy,
therefore, with reſpect to botlı, is, to ſecure to the family
its means of ſubſiſtence and ſettlement ; to protect the in-
duftrious in the purſuit of his occupation ; to reconcile the
reſtrictions of police, and the ſocial affections of mankind,
with their ſeparate and intereſted purſuits.
In matters of particular profeſſion, induſtry, and trade;
the experienced practitioner is the maſter, and every gene-
ral reaſoner is a novice. The object in commerce is to
make the individual rich; the more he gains for himſelf,
the more he augments the wealth of his country. If
a protection be required, it muſt be granted ; if crimes
and frauds be committed, they muſt be repreffed ; and
government can pretend to no more. When the refined
politician would lend an active hand, he only multiplies
interruptions and grounds of complaint; when the mer-
chant forgets his own intereſt to lay plans for his country,
the period of viſion and chimera is near, and the ſolid
baſis of commerce withdrawn. He miglit be told, that
while
Sect. 40
Of Population and Wealth.
221
while he purſues his advantage, and gives no cauſe of
complaint, the intereſt of commerce is fafe.
The general police of France, proceeding on a ſuppo-
ſition that the exportation of corn muſt drain the coun-
try, where it has grown, had, till of late, laid that
branch of commerce under a ſevere prohibition. The
Engliſh landholder and the farmer liad credit enough to
obtain a premium for exportation, to favour the ſale of
their commodity; and the event has ſhown, that private
intereſt is a better patron of commerce and plenty, than
the refinements of ſtate. One nation lays the refined plan
of a fettlement on the continent of North America, and
truſts little to the conduct of traders and ſhort-fighted
men ; another leaves men to find their own poſition in a
ſtate of freedom, and to think for themſelves. The active
induſtry and the limited views of the one, made a thriv-
ing ſettlement; the great projects of the other were ſtill .
in idea.
1
But I willingly quit a ſubject in which I am not much
converſant, and ſtill leſs engaged by the views with
which I write. Speculations on commerce and wealth
have been delivered by the ableſt writers, who have
Ieft nothing ſo important to be offered on the ſubject,
as the general caution, not to conſider theſe articles as
making the ſum of national felicity, or the principal ob-
ject of any ſtate.
ONE
u
222
Part III
Of Population and Wealth,
2
One nation, in ſearch of gold and of precious metals,
neglect the domeſtic ſources of wealth, and become de-
pendent on their neighbours for the neceſſaries of life:
another ſo intent on improving their internal reſources,
and on increaſing their commerce, that they become dc-
pendent on foreigners for the defence of what they ac-
quire. It is even painful in converſation to find the in-
tereſts of trade give the tone to our reaſonings, and to
find a ſubject perpetually offered as the great buſineſs of
national councils, to which any interpoſition of govern-
ment is ſeldom, with propriety, applied, or never beyond
the protection it affords.
We complain of a want of public ſpirit; but whatever
may be the effect of this error in practice, in ſpecula-
tion it is none of our faults: we reaſon perpetually for
the public; but the want of national views were fre-
quently better than the poſſeſſion of thoſe we expreſs :
we would have nations, like a company of merchants,
think of nothing but the increaſe of their ſtock ; aſſemble
to deliberate on profit and loſs; and, like them too, intruſt
their protection to a force which they do not poſſeſs in
themſelves.
1
BECAUSE men, like other animals, are maintained in
multitudes, where the neceſſaries of life are amaſſed, and
the ſtore of wealth is enlarged, we drop our regards for
the happineſs, the moral and political character of a peo-
ple; and anxious for the herd we would propagate, carry
our views no farther than the ſtall and the paſture. We
forget
+
1
+
Sect. 4:
Of Population and Wealth.
223
1
1
forget that the few have often made a prey of the many;
that to the poor there is nothing ſo enticing as the cof-
fers of the rich ; and that when the price of freedom
comes to be paid, the heavy ſword of the victor may fall
into the oppoſite ſcale..
WHATEVER be the actual conduct of nations in this
matter, it is certain, that many of our arguments would
lurry us, for the ſake of wealth and of population, into a
fcene where mankind being expoſed to corruption, are un-
able to defend their poſſeſſions; and wliere they are, in
the end, ſubject to oppreſſion and ruin. We cut off the
roots, while we would extend the branches, and thicken
the foliage.
It is poſſibly from an opinion that the virtues of men
are ſecure, that ſome who turn their attention to public
affairs, think of nothing but the numbers and wealth of
a people : it is from a dread of corruption; that others.
think of nothing but how to preſerve the national vir-
tues. Human ſociety has great obligations to both. They
are oppoſed to one another only by miſtake; and even
when united, have not ſtrength ſufficient to combat the
wretched party, that refers every object to perſonal intereſt,
and that cares not for the ſafety or increaſe of any ſtock:
but its own.
1
Ý
1
224
Part III,
Of National Defence and Conqueft.
S E C T.
V.
Of National Defence and Conqueſt,
IT
T is impoſſible to aſcertain how much of the policy of
any.
ſtate has a reference to war, or to national ſafety.
“ Our legiſlator,” ſays the Cretan in Plato, thought
" that nations were by nature in a ſtate of hoſtility: he
“ took his meaſures accordingly; and obſerving that all
" the poſeſſions of the vanquiſhed pertain to the victor,
" he held it ridiculous to propoſe any benefit to his
country, before he had provided that it ſhould not be
" conquered."
1
A
Crete, which is ſuppoſed to have been a model of
military policy, is commonly conſidered as the original
from which the celebrated laws of Lycurgus were co-
pied. Mankind, it ſeems, in every inſtance, inuſt have
ſome palpable object to direct their proceedings, and
muſt have a view to ſome point of external utility, even
in the choice of their virtues. The diſcipline of Sparta
was military; and a ſenſe of its uſe in the field, more
than the force of unwritten and traditionary laws, or the
ſuppoſed engagement of the public faith, obtained by
the lawgiver, may have induced this people to perſevere
in the obſervance of many rules, which to other na-
tions
1
+
1
Sect. 5
2:5
Of National Defence and Conqueſt.
tions do not appear neceſſary, except in the preſence of
an enemy.
Every inſtitution of this fingular. people gave a leſſon
of obedience, of fortitude, and of zeal for the public : but
it is remarkable that they choſe to obtain, by their vir-
tues alone, what other nations are fain to buy with their
ſure; and it is well known, that, in the courſe of their
hiſtory, they came to regard their diſcipline merely on
account of its moral effects. They had experienced the
happineſs of a mind courageous, diſintereſted, and de-
voted to its beſt affections; and they ſtudied to preſerve
this character in themſelves, by reſigning the intereſts of
ambition, and the hopes of military glory, even by facri-
ficing the numbers of their people.
1
!
It was the fate of Spartans who eſcaped from the field,
not of thoſe who periſhed with Cleombrotus at Leuctra,
that filled the cottages of Lacedemon with mourning
and ſerious reflection *: it was the fear of having their
citizens corrupted abroad, by intercourſe with ſervile and
mercenary men, that made them quit the ſtation of
leaders, in the Perſian war, and leave Athens, during
fifty years, to purſue, unrivalled, that career of ambition
and profit, by which ſhe made ſuch acquiſitions of power
and of wealth t.
r
DD
1
* Xenophon.
+ Thucydides, book 1,
Ff
WE
>
1
226
Part III.
Of National Defence and Conqueſt
.
-
We have had occaſion to obſerve, that in every rude
ftate, the great buſineſs is war; and that in barbarous
times, mankind, being generally divided into ſmall par-
ties, are engaged in almoſt perpetual hoſtilities. This
circumſtance gives the military leader a continued aſcend-
ant in his country, and inclines every people, during war-
like ages, to monarchical government.
The conduct of an army can leaſt of all ſubjects be
divided : and we may be juſtly ſurpriſed to find, that the
Romans, after many ages of military experience, and
after having recently felt the arms of Hannibal, in many
encounters, aſſociated two leaders at the head of the ſame
army, and left them to adjuſt their pretenſions, by taking
the command, each a day in his turn. The ſame people,
however, on other occaſions, thought it expedient to ſuf-
pend the exerciſe of every ſubordinate magiſtracy, and in
the time of great alarms, to intruſt all the authority of
the ſtate in the hands of one perſon.
Republics have generally found it neceſſary, in the
conduct of war, to place great confidence in the executive
branch of their government.
When a conful at Rome
had proclaimed his levies, and adminiſtered the military
oath, he became from that moment maſter of the public
treaſury, and of the lives of thoſe who were under his
command * The axe and the rods were no longer a
mere badge of magiſtracy, or an empty pageant, in the
* Polybius.
1
hands
Sect. 5:
of National Defence and Conqueft.
227
hands of the lictor: they were, at the command of the
father, ſtained with the blood of his own children; and
fell, without appeal, on the mutinous and the diſobe-
dient of every condition.
1
1
In every
free ſtate, there is a perpetual neceſſity to dif-
tinguiſh the maxims of martial law from thoſe of the ci-
vil; and he who has not learned to give an implicit obc-
dience, where the ſtate has given him a military leader,
and to reſign his perſonal freedom in the field, from the
fame magnanimity with which he maintains it in the po-
litical deliberations of his country, has yet to learn the
moſt important leſſon of civil ſociety, and is only fit to
occupy a place in a rude, or in a corrupted ſtate, where
the principles of mutiny and of ſervility being joined, the
one or the other is frequently adopted in the wrong
place.
From a regard to what is neceſſary in war, nations
inclined to popular or ariſtocratical government, have
had recourſe to eſtabliſhments that bordered on monar-
chy. Even where the higheſt office of the ſtate was in
common times adminiſtered by a plurality of perſons, the
whole power and authority belonging to it was, on parti-
cular occaſions, committed to one ; and upon great alarms,
when the political fabric was ſhaken or endangered, a
monarchical power has been applied, like a prop, to fe-
cure the ſtate againſt the rage of the tempeft. Thus were
the dictators occaſionally named at Rome, and the ſtadt-
holders in the United Provinces ; and thus, in mixed
governments,
Ff 2
1
|
228
of National Defence and Conqueſt. Part III.
governments, the royal prerogative is occaſionally enlarg-
ed, by the temporary ſuſpenſion of laws*, and the barriers
of liberty appear to be removed, in order to veſt a dictato-
rial power in the hands of the King.
V
1
HAD mankind, therefore, no view but to warfare,
it is probable that they would continue to prefer monar-
chical government to any other; or at lcaſt that every
nation, in order to procure ſecret and united councils,
would intruſt the executive power with unlimited autlio-
rity. But, happily for civil ſociety, men have objects
of a different fort : and experience has taught, that al-
though the conduct of armies requires an abſolute and
undivided command ; yet a national force is beſt formed,
where numbers of men are inured to equality; and where
the meaneſt citizen may conſider himſelf, upon occaſion,
as deſtined to command as well as to obey. It is here
that the dictator finds a ſpirit and a force prepared to fe-
cond his councils ; it is here too that the dictator himſelf
is formed, and that numbers of leaders are preſented to
the public choice ; it is here that the proſperity of a ſtate
is independent of ſingle men, and that a wiſdom which
never dies, with a ſyſtem of military arrangements per-
manent and regular, can, even under the greateſt mif-
fortunes, prolong the national ſtruggle. With this ad-
vantage, the Romans, finding a number of diſtinguiſhed
lcaders ariſe in ſucceſlion, were at all times almoſt equally
prepared to contend with their enemics of Aſia or Africa;
!
* In Britain, by the ſuſpenſion of the Habeas corpus.
while
!
A
4
*
Sect. 5.
r
1
.
Of National Defence and Conqueſt.
229
while the fortune of thoſe enemics, on the contrary, de-
pended on the caſual appearance of ſingular men, of a
Mithridates, or of a Hannibal.
The ſoldier, we are told, has his point of honour,
and a faſhion of thinking, which he wears with his
ſword. This point of honour, in free and uncorrupted
Atates, is a zeal for the public; and war to them, is an
operation of paſſions, not the mere purſuit of a calling.
Its good and its ill effects are felt in extremes: the friend
is made to experience the warmeſt proofs of attachment,
the enemy the, ſevereſt effects of animoſity. On this
ſyſtem the celebrated nations of antiquity made war un-
der their higheſt attainments of civility, and under their
greateſt degrees of refinement.
In ſmall and rude focieties, the individual finds him-
ſelf attacked in every national war; and none can pro-
poſe to devolve his defence on another.
“ The King
“ of Spain is a great prince," ſaid an American chief
to the governor of Jamaica, who was preparing a body
of troops to join in an enterpriſe againſt the Spaniards :
“ do you propoſe to make war upon ſo great a king
with ſo ſmall a force ?" Being told that the forces hc
faw were to be joined by troops from Europe, and that
the governor could then command no more:
" thefe then,” ſaid the American, “ who form this croud
“ of ſpectators ? are they not your people ? and why do
you not all go forth to ſo great a war ?" He was an-
ſwered, That the ſpectators were incrchants, and other
inhabitants,
5
r
!
1.
66 Who are
A
230
Part III.
Of National Defence and Conqueſt.
CC
inhabitants, who took, no part in the ſervice: “ Would
they be merchants ſtill,” continued this ſtateſman, “ if
“ the King of Spain was to attack you here ? For my part,
I do not think that merchants ſhould be permitted to
“ live in any country: when I go to war, I leave no body
at home but the women.' It ſhould ſeem that this
ſimple warrior conſidered merchants as a kind of neutral
perſons, who took no part in the quarrels of their coun-
try ; and that he did not know how much war itſelf
may be made the ſubject of traffic ; what mighty armies
may be put in motion from behind the counter ; how
often human blood is, without any national animoſity,
bought and ſold for bills of exchange ; and how often
the prince, the nobles, and the ſtateſmen, in many a
poliſhed nation, might, in his account, be conſidered as
merchants.
1
+
In the progreſs of arts and of policy, the members of
every ſtate are divided into claſſes ; and in the commence-
mcnt of this diſtribution, there is no diſtinction more
ſerious than that of the warrior and the pacific inhabi-
ant ; no more is required to place men in the relation of
inafter and ſlave. Even when the rigours of an eſtabliſhed
ſlavery abate, as they have done in modern Europe, in
conſequence of a protection, and a property, allowed to
the mechanic and labourer, this diſtinction ſerves ſtill
to ſeparate the noble from the baſe, and to point out that
claſs of men who are deſtined to reign and to domineer in
their country,
IT
1
1
Sect. 5.
Of National Defence and Conqueſt
.
231
2
It was certainly never foreſeen by mankind, that in the
purſuit of refinement, they were to reverſe this order ;
or even that they were to place the government, and the
military force of nations, in different lands. But is it
equally unforſeen, that the former order may again take
place? and that the pacific citizen, however diſtinguiſh-
ed by privilege and rank, muſt one day bow to the per-
ſon with whom he has intruſted his ſword. If ſuch rcvo-
lutions ſhould actually follow, will this new maſter re-
vive in his own order the ſpirit of the noble and the free?
Will he renew the characters of the warrior and the ſtater-
man? Will he reſtore to his country the civil and milita-
ту
virrues? I am afraid to reply. Monteſquieu obferves,
that the government of Rome, even under the emperors,
became, in the hands of the troops, elective and republi-
can: but the Fabii or the Bruti were heard of no more,
after the prætorian bands became the republic.
We have enumerated ſome of the heads under which
a people, as they emerge from barbarity, may come to
be claſled. Such are, the nobility, the people, the ad-
herents of the prince ; and even the prieſthood have not
been forgotten: when we arrive at times of refinement,
the army muſt be joined to the liſt. The departments of
civil government and of war being fevered, and the pre-
eminence being given to the ſtateſman, the ambitious
will naturally devolve the military ſervice on thoſe who
are contented with a ſubordinate ſtation. They who have
the greateſt ſhare in the diviſion of fortune, and the
greateſt intereſt in defending their country, having re-
figned
:
4
!
N-
1
1
1
S
7
3
។
232
. Part III.
Of National Defence and Conqueſt
ſigned the ſword, muſt pay for what they have ceaſed to
perform ; and armies, not only at a diſtance from home,
but in the very bofoin of their country, are ſubfifted by
pay. A diſcipline is invented to inure the ſoldier to per-
form, from liabit, and from fear of puniſhment, thoſe
hazardous duties, which the love of the public, or a na-
tional ſpirit, no longer inſpire.
When we conſider the breaçlı that ſuch an eſtabliſh-.
ment makes in the ſyſtem of national virtues, it is un-
pleaſant to obſerve, that moſt nations who have run the
carcer of civil arts, have, in ſome degree, adopted this
meaſure. Not only ſtates, which either have wars to
maintain, or precarious poſſeſſions to defend at a diſtance ;
not only a prince jealous of his authority, or in haſte to
gain the advantage of diſcipline, are diſpoſed to employ
foreign troops, or to keep ſtanding armies ; but even re-
publics, with little of the former occaſion, and none of
the motives which prevail in monarchy, have been found
to tread in the ſame path.
Ir
1
If military arrangements occupy fo conſiderable a
place in the domeſtic policy of nations, the actual conſe-
quences of war are equally important in the hiſtory of
mankind. Glory and ſpoil were the earlieſt ſubject of
quarrels ; a conceſſion of ſuperiority, or a ranſom were the
prices of peace. The love of ſafety, and the deſire of
dominion, equally lead mankind to wiſh for acceſſions of
ſtrength. Whether as victors or as vanquiſhed, they tend
ro a coalition; and powerful nations conſidering a pro-
8
vince,
1
?
Sect. 5.
Of National Defence and Conqueſt. 233
vince, or a fortreſs acquired on their frontier, as ſo much
gained, are perpetually intent on extending their limits.
The maxims of conqueſt are not always to be diſtin-
guiſhed from thoſe of ſelf-defence. If a neighbouring
ſtate be dangerous, if it be frequently troubleſome, ,
it is a maxim founded in the conſideration of ſafety,
as well as of conqueſt, That it ought to be weakened
or diſarmed: 'If, being once reduced, it be diſpoſed to
renew the conteſt, it muſt from thenceforward be go-
verned in form. Rome never avowed any other maxims
of conqueſt; and the every where ſent her infolent ar-
mies, under the ſpecious pretence of procuring to herſelf
and her allies a laſting peace, which ſhe would-alone re-
ſerve the power to diſturb.
.
1
The equality of thoſe alliances which the Grecian
ftates formed againſt each other, maintained, for a time,
their independence and ſeparation; and that time was
the ſhining and the happy period of their ſtory. It was
prolonged more by the vigilance and conduct which they
ſeverally applied, than by the moderation of their coun-
cils, or by any peculiarities of domeſtic policy which ar-
reſted their progreſs. The victors were ſometimes con-
tented, with merely changing to a reſemblance of their
own forms the government of the ſtates they ſubdued.
What the next ſtep might have been in the progreſs of im-
poſitions, is hard to determine. But when we conſider,
that one party fought for the impoſition of tributes, an-
other for the aſcendant in war, it cannot be doubted,
that
G8
234 Of National Defence and Conqueft. Part III.
that the Athenians, from a national ambition, and from
the deſire of wealth, and the Spartans, though they ori-
ginally meant only to defend themſelves, and their allies,
were both, at laſt, equally willing to become the maſters
of Greece; and were preparing for each other at home,
that yoke, which both, together with their confederates,
were obliged to receive from abroad.
In the conqueſts of Philip, the deſire of ſelf-preſerva-
tion and ſecurity ſeemed to be blended with the ambition
natural to princes. He turned his arms ſucceſſively to
the quarters on which he found himſelf hurt, from which
he had been alarmed or provoked: and when he had
ſubdued the Greeks, he propoſed to lead them againſt
their ancient enemy of Perſia. In this he laid the plan
which was carried into execution by his fon.
The Romans, become the maſters of Italy, and the
conquerors of Carthage, had been alarmed on the ſide of
Macedon, and were led to croſs a new ſea in ſearch of a
new field, on which to exerciſe their military force. In
proſecution of their wars, from the earlieſt to the lateſt
date of their hiſtory, without intending the very con-
queſts they made, perhaps without foreſeeing what ad-
vantage they were to reap from the ſubjection of diſtant
provinces, or in what manner they were to govern their
new acquiſitions, they ſtill proceeded to ſeize what came
ſucceſſively within their reach; and, ftimulated by a po-
licy which engaged them in perpetual wars, which led
to perpetual victory and acceſſions of territory, they ex-
ended
1
!
1
4
Sect. 5.
Of National Defence and Conqueft. 235
tended the frontier of a ſtate, which, but a few centuries
before, had been confined within the ſkirts of a village,
to the Euphrates, the Danube, the Weſer, the Forth, and
the Ocean.
It is vain to affirm, that the genius of any nation is
adverſe to conqueft. Its real intereſts indeed moſt com-
monly are ſo; but every ſtate which is prepared to de-
fend itſelf, and to obtain victories, is likewiſe in hazard
of being tempted to conquer.
1
In Europe, where mercenary and diſciplined armies are
every where formed, and ready to traverſe the earth,
where, like a flood pent up by ſlender banks, they are
only reſtrained by political forms, or a temporary balance
of power ; if the ſluices ſhould break, what inunda-
tions may we not expect to behold? Effeminate kingdoms
and empires are ſpread from the ſea of Corea to the At-
lantic ocean. Every ſtate, by the defeat of its troops,
may be turned into a province; every army oppoſed in
the field to-day may be hired to-morrow;
vicu
tory gained, may give the acceſſion of a new military
force to the victor.
and every
The Romans, with inferior arts of communication
both by ſea and land, maintained their doininion in a
conſiderable part of Europe, Aſia, and Africa, over fierce
and intractable nations: What may not the fleets and
armies of Europe, with the acceſs they have by com-
merce to every part of the world, and the facility of
Gg2
their
1
1
.
1
1
236
Of National Defence and Conqueſt.
Part III.
their conveyance, effect, if that ruinous maxim ſhould
prevail, That the grandeur of a nation is to be eſtimated
from the extent of its territory; or, That the intereſt of
any particular people conſiſts in reducing their neighbours
to ſervitude ?
SECT
VI.
Of Civil Liberty:
war,
"
;
F either for depredation or defence, were the
I
principal object of nations, every tribe would, from
its earlieſt ſtate, aim at the condition of a Tartar horde
and in all its ſucceſſes would haften to the grandeur of a
Tartar empire. The military leader would fuperfede the
civil magiſtrate ; and preparations to fly with all their
poffeffions, or to purſue with all their forces, would, in
every ſociety, make the ſum of their public arrangements.
1
He who firſt on the banks of the Wolga, or the Jeniſca,
had taught the Scythian to mount the horſe, to move
his cottage on wheels, to haraſs his enemy alike by his
attacks and his flights, to handle at full ſpeed the lance
and the bow, and when beat from his ground, to leave his
arrows in the wind to meet his purſuer ; he who had
taught his countrymen to uſe the ſame animal for every
purpoſe of the dairy, the ſhambles, and the field of battle;
would be eſteemed the founder of his nation ; or, like
Ceres
d
.
Sect. 6.
Of Civil Liberty.
237
Ceres and Bacchus among the Greeks, would be inveſted
with the honours of a god, as the reward of his uſeful
inventions. Amidſt ſuch inſtitutions, the names and
atchievements of Hercules and Jaſon might have been
tranſmitted to pofterity; but thoſe of Lycurgus or Solon,
the heroes of political ſociety, could have gained no repu-
tation, either fabulous or real, in the records of fame.
Every tribe of warlike barbarians may entertain among
themſelves the ſtrongeſt ſentiment of affection and honour,
while they carry to the reſt of mankind the aſpect of ban-
ditti and robbers * They may be indifferent to intereſt,
and ſuperior to danger ; but our ſenſe of humanity, our
regard to the rights of nations, our admiration of civil
wiſdom and juſtice, even our effeminacy itſelf, make us
turn away with contempt, or with liorror, from a ſcene
which exhibits ſo few of our good qualities, and which
ſerves ſo much to reproach our weakneſs.
+
It is in conducting the affairs of civil ſociety, that man-
kind find the exerciſe of their beſt talents, as well as the
object of their beſt affections. It is in being grafted on
the advantages of civil ſociety, thap the art of war is
brought to perfection; that the reſources of armies, and
the complicated ſprings to be touched in their conduct,
are beſt underſtood. The moſt celebrated warriors were
alſo citizens : Oppoſed to a Roman, or a Greek, the chief-
1
D'Arvieux's Hiſt, of the Arabs.
main
238
Of Civil Liberty.
Part III.
1
tain of Thrace, of Germany, or Gaul, was a novice. The
native of Pella learned the principles of his art from Epa-
minondas and Pelopidas.
If nations, as hath been obſerved in the preceding fec-
tion, muſt adjuſt their policy on the proſpect of war from
abroad, they are equally bound to provide for the attain-
ment of peace at home. But there is no peace in the ab-
ſence of juſtice. It may ſubſiſt with diviſions, diſputes,
and contrary opinions; but not with the commiſſion of
wrongs. The injurious, and the injured, are, as implied
in the very meaning of the terms, in a ſtate of hoſtility.
Where men enjoy peace, they owe it either to their
mutual regards and affections, or to the reſtraints of law.
Thoſe are the happieſt ſtates which procure peace to their
members by the firſt of theſe methods : But it is ſuffici-
ently uncommon to procure it even by the ſecond.' The
firſt would with-hold the occaſions of war and of com-
petition: The ſecond adjuſts the pretenſions of men by
ftipulations and treaties. Sparta taught her citizens not
to regard intereſt: Other free nations ſecure the intereſt
of their members, and conſider this as a principal part
of their rights.
Law is the treaty to which members of the ſame com-
munity have agreed, and under which the magiſtrate and
the ſubject continue to enjoy their rights, and to main-
tain the peace of ſociety. The deſire of lucre is the great
motive to injuries : law therefore has a principal reference
to property. It would aſcertain the different methods
by
I
!
'
Sect. 6.
Of Civil Liberty.
239
by which property may be acquired, as by preſcription,
conveyance, and ſucceſſion; and it makes the neceſſary
proviſions for rendering the poſſeſſion of property ſecure.
Beside avarice, there are other motives from which
men are unjuſt ; ſuch are pride, malice, envy, and re-
venge. The law would eradicate the principles themſelves,
or at leaſt prevent their effects.
1
.
1
FROM whatever motive wrongs are committed, there
are different particulars in which the injured may ſuffer.
He may ſuffer in his goods, in his perſon, or in the free-
dom of his conduct, Nature has made him maſter of
every action which is not injurious to others. The laws of
his particular fociety intitle him perhaps to a determinate
ſtation, and beſtow on him a certain ſhare in the govern-
ment of his country. An injury, therefore, which in
this reſpect puts him under any unjuſt reſtraint, may be
called an infringement of his political rights.
Where the citizen is ſuppoſed to have rights of pro-
perty and of ſtation, and is protected in the exerciſe of
them, he is faid to be free; and the very reſtraints by
which he is hindered from the commiſſion of crimes, are
a part of his liberty. No perſon is free, where any per-
ſon is fuffered to do wrong with impunity. Even the def-
potic prince on his throne, is not an exception to this ge-
neral rule. He himſelf is a flave, the moment he pretends
that force ſhould decide any conteſt. The diſregard he
throws on the rights of his people recoils on himſelf; and
in
2
240
Part IIT.
Of Civil Liberty.
t
in the general uncertainty of all conditions, there is no
tenure more precarious than his own.
1
From the different particulars to which men refer, in
ſpeaking of liberty, whether to the ſafety of the perſon
and the goods, the dignity of rank, or the participation of
political importance, as well as from the different me-
thods by which their rights are ſecured, they are lead to
differ in the interpretation of the term ; and every people
is apt to imagine, that its ſignification is to be found only
among themſelves.
Some having thought, that the unequal diſtribution of
wealth is unjuſt, required a new diviſion of property, as
the foundation of freedom. This ſcheme is ſuited to de-
mocratical government ; and in ſuch only it has been ad-
mitted with any degree of effect.
New ſettlements, like that of the people of Iſrael, and
ſingular eſtabliſhments, like thoſe of Sparta and Crete,
have furniſhed examples of its actual execution ; but in
moſt other ſtates, even the democratical ſpirit could at-
tain no more than to prolong the ſtruggle for Agrarian
laws ; to procure, on occaſion, the expunging of debts ;
and to keep the people in mind, under all the diſtinctions
of fortune, that they ſtill had a claim to equality.
+
The citizen at Rome, at Athens, and in many repub-
lics, contended for himſelf, and his order. The Agra-
rian law was moved and debated for ages : it ſerved to
awaken
.
Sect. 6.
of Civil Liberty.
241
awaken the mind ; it nouriſhed the ſpirit of equality,
and furniſhed a field on which to exert its force ; but
was never eſtabliſhed with any of its other and more
formal effects.
1
MANY of the eſtabliſhments which ſerve to defend the
weak from oppreſſion, contribute, by ſecuring the poffef-
fion of property, to favour its unequal diviſion, and to
increaſe the aſcendant of thoſe from whom the abuſes of
power may be feared. Thoſe abuſes were felt very early
both at Athens and Rome *
It has been propoſed to prevent the exceſſive accu-
mulation of wealth in particular hands, by limiting the
increaſe of private fortunes, by prohibiting entails, and
by with-holding the right of primogeniture in the ſuc-
ceflion of heirs. It has been propoſed to prevent the ruin
of moderate eftates, and to reſtrain the uſe, and conſe-
quently the deſire of great ones, by ſumptuary laws.
Theſe different methods are more or leſs confiftent with
the intereſts of commerce, and may be adopted, in dif-
ferent degrees, by a people whoſe national object is
wealth : and they have their degree of effect, by inſpiring
moderation, or a ſenſe of equality, and by ftifling the
paſſions by which mankind are prompted to mutual
wrongs.
* Plutarch in the life of Solon.---Livy.
H 11
I'r
242
Of Civil Liberty.
Part III.
Ir appears to be, in a particular manner, the object of
fumptuary laws, and of equal diviſion of wealth, to
prevent, the gratification of vanity, to check the oftenta-
tion of ſuperior fortune, and, by this means, to weaken
the deſire of riches, and to preſerve in the breaſt of the
citizen, that moderation and equity which ought to regu-
late his conduct.
1
This end is never perfectly attained in any ſtate
where the unequal diviſion of property is admitted, and
where fortune is allowed to beſtow diſtinction and rank.
It is indeed difficult, by any methods whatever, to ſhut
up this ſource of corruption. Of all the nations whoſe
hiſtory is known with certainty, the deſign itſelf, and the
manner of executing it, appear to have been underſtood
in Sparta alone.
*
There property was indeed acknowledged by law;
but in conſequence of certain regulations and practices,
tlie moſt effectual it ſeems, that mankind have hitherto
found out. The manners that prevail among ſimple nati-
ons before the eſtabliſhment of property, were in ſome
meaſure preſerved *; the paſſion for riches was, during
many ages, ſuppreſſed; and the citizen was made to con-
ſider himſelf as the property of his country, not as the
owner of a private eſtate.
* See part 2. ſect. Zo
IT
។
+
1
Sect. 6.
Of Civil Liberty.
243
It was held ignominous either co buy or to ſell the pa-
trimony of a citizen. Slaves were, in every family, intruſt-
ed with the care of its effects, and freemen were ſtrangers
to lucrative arts; juſtice was eſtabliſhed on a contempt
of the ordinary allurement to crimes; and the preſervatives
of civil liberty applied by the ſtate, were the diſpoſitions
that were made to prevail in the hearts of its members.
I
1
The individual was relieved from every ſolicitude that
could ariſe on the head of his fortune ; he was educated,
and he was employed for life in the ſervice of the public ;.
he was fed at a place of common reſort, to which he
could carry no diſtinction but that of his talents and his
virtues ; his children were the wards and the pupils of
the ſtate; he himſelf was taught to be a parent, and a
director to the youth of his country, not the anxious father
of a ſeparate family.
This people, we are told, beſtowed ſome care in adorn-
ing their perſons, and were known from afar by the red
or the purple they wore ; but could not make their equi-
page, their buildings, or their furniture, a ſubject of
fancy, or of what we call taſte. The carpenter and the
houſe-builder were reſtricted to the uſe of the axe and the
faw: their workmanſhip muſt have been fimple, and pro-
bably, in reſpect to its form, continued for ages the ſame.
The ingenuity of the artiſt was employed in cultivating
his own nature, not in adorning the habitations of his fel-
low-citizens.
Hh
ON
241
Of Civil Liberty.
Part III.
.
On this plan, they had ſenators, magiſtrates, leaders of
armies, and miniſters of ſtate ; but no men of fortune.
Like the heroes of Homer, they diſtributed honours by
the meaſure of the cup and the platter. A citizen, who,
in his political capacity, was the arbiter of Greece, thought
himſelf honoured by receiving a double portion of plain
entertainment at ſupper. He was active, penetrating,
brave, diſintereſted, and generous ; but his eſtate, his table,
and his furniture, might, in our eſteem, have marred the
luſtre of all his virtues. Neighbouring nations, however,
applied for commanders to this nurſery of ſtateſmen and
warriors, as we apply for the practitioners of every art to
the countries in which they excel ;. for cooks to France,
and for muſicians to Italy.
After all, we are, perhaps, not ſufficiently, inſtructed in
the nature of the Spartan laws and inftitutions, to under-
ſtand in what manner all the ends of this fingular ſtate
were obtained ; but the admiration paid to its people,
and the conſtant reference of contemporary hiſtorians to
their avowed ſuperiority, will not allow us to queſtion
the facts.
" When I obſerved,” ſays Xenophon,
“ this nation, though not the moſt populous, was the
“ moſt powerful ſtate of Greece, I was ſeized with won-
“ der, and with an earneſt deſire to know by what arts
" it attained its pre-eminence; but when I came to the
“ knowledge of its inftitutions, my wonder ceaſed.--
" As one man excels another, and as he who is at pains
to cultivate his mind, muſt ſurpaſs the perſon who
neglects it; fo the Spartans ſhould excel every nation,
being
66 that
---
Sect. 6. Of Civil Liberty.
245
being the only ſtate in which virtue is ſtudied as the
“ object of government.”
The ſubjects of property, conſidered with a view to
ſubſiſtence, or even to enjoyment, have little effect in
corrupting mankind, or in awakening the ſpirit of com-
petition and of jealouſy; but conſidered with a view to
diſtinction and honour, where fortune conſtitutes rank,
they excite the moſt vehement paſſions, and abſorb all
the ſentiments of the human ſoul: they reconcile avarice
and meanneſs with ambition and vanity; and lead men
through the practice of fordid and mercenary arts to the
poſſeſſion of a ſuppoſed elevation and dignity,
1
Where this ſource of corruption, on the contrary, is
effectually ſtopped, the citizen is dutiful, and the ma-
giſtrate upright ; any form of government may be wiſely
adminiſtered ; places of truſt are likely to be well ſup-
plied; and by whatever rule office and power are beſtow-
ed, it is likely that all the capacity and force that ſub-
fifts in the ſtate will come to be employed in its ſervice:
for on this ſuppoſition, experience and abilities are the only
guides and the only titles of public confidence ; and if
citizens be ranged into ſeparate claſſes, they become mu- ·
tual checks by the difference of their opinions, not by
the oppoſition of their intereſted deſigns.
We may eaſily account for the cenſures beſtowed on
the government of Sparta, by thoſe who conſidered it
inerely on the ſide of its forms. It was not calculated to
prevent
+
1
1
24.6
Of Civil Liberty.
Part IIT.
+
.
prevent the practice of crimes, by balancing againſt each
other the ſelfiſh and partial diſpoſitions of men; but to
inſpire the virtues of the ſoul, to procure innocence by the
abſence of criminal inclinations, and to derive its internal
peace from the indifference of its members to the ordina-
ту
motives of ſtrife and diſorder. It were trifling to ſeek
for its analogy to any other conſtitution of ſtate, in which
its principle characteriſtic and diſtinguiſhing feature is
not to be found. The collegiate ſovereignty, the fenate,
and the ephori, had their counterparts in other republics,
and a reſemblance has been found in particular to the
government of Carthage *: but what affinity of confe-
quence can be found between a ſtate whoſe fole object
was virtue, and another whoſe principal object was wealth;
between a people whoſe aſſociated kings, being lodged in
the ſame cottage, had no fortune but their daily food;
and a commercial republic, in which a proper eſtate was
required as a neceſſary qualification for the higher offices
of ſtate?
OTHER petty commonwealths expelled kings, when
they became jealous of their deſigns, or after having ex-
perienced their tyranny; here the hereditary ſucceſſion of
kings was preſerved: other ſtates were afraid of the in-
trigues and cabals of their members in competition for
dignities ; here ſolicitation was required as the only
condition upon which a place in the ſenate was obtained.
A ſupreme inquiſitorial power was, in the perſons of the
* Ariſtotle.
ephori,
V
1
247
Se&. 6.
Of Civil Liberty.
cphori, fafely committed to a few men, who were drawn
by lot, and without diſtinction, from every order of the
people: and if a contraſt to this, as well as to many other
articles of tlie Spartan policy, be required, it may be found
in the general hiſtory of mankind.
But Sparta, under every ſuppoſed error of its form,
proſpered for-ages, by the integrity of its manners, and
by the character of its citizens. When that integrity was
broken, this people did not languiſh in the weakneſs of
nations ſunk in cffeminacy. They fell into the ſtream by
which other ſtates had been carried in the torrent of vio-
lent paſſions, and in the outrage of barbarous times.
They ran the career of other nations, after that of ancient
Sparta was finiſhed : They built walls; and began to im-
prove their poſſeſſions, after they ceaſed. to improve their
people ; and on this new plan, in their ſtruggle for politi-
cal life, they ſurvived the ſyſtem of ſtates that periſhed
under the Macedonian dominion: They lived to act with
another which aroſe in the Achæan league ;, and were
the laſt community of Greece that became a village in the
empire of Rome..
If it ſhould be thought we have dielt too long on the
hiſtory of this fingular people, it may be remembered, in
excuſe, that they alone, in the language of Xenophonis,
inade virtue an object of ſtate.
We muſt be contented to derive our freedom from:a:
different ſource; to expect juſtice from the limits which
are.
248
Part 1:11.
Of Civil Liberty.
+
are ſet to the powers of the magiſtrate, and to rely for,
protection on the laws which are made to ſecure the
eſtate and the perſon of the ſubject. We live in ſocieties,
where men muſt be rich, in order to be great ; where plea-
ſure itſelf is often purſued from vanity; where the deſire
of a ſuppoſed happineſs ſerves to inflame the worſt of paf-
fions, and is itſelf the foundation of miſery; where public
juſtice, like fetters applied to the body, may, without in-
fpiring the ſentiments of candour and equity, prevent the
actual commiſſion of crimes.
MANKIND come under this deſcription the moment
they are ſeized with their paſſions for riches and power.
But their deſcription in every inſtance is mixed: in the
beſt there is an alloy of evil ; in the worſt a mixture of
good. Without any eſtabliſhments to preſerve their man-
ners, beſides penal laws, and the reſtraints of police, they
derive, from inſtinctive feelings, a love of integrity and
candour, and, from the very contagion of ſociety itſelf, an
efteem for what is honourable and praiſe-worthy. They
derive, from their union, and joint oppoſition to foreign
enemies, a zeal for their own community, and courage to
maintain its rights. If the frequent neglect of virtue as
a political object, tend to diſcredit the underſtandings of
men, its luſtre, and its frequency, as a ſpontaneous
offspring of the heart, will reſtore the honours of our
nature.
In every caſual and mixed ſtate of the national man-
ners, the ſafety of every individual, and his political con-
ſequence,
1
Sect. 6.
Of Civil Liberty.
249
fequence, depends inuch on himſelf, but more on the party
to which he is joined. For this reaſon, all who feel, a
common intereſt, are apt. to unite in parties ; and, as far
as that intereſt requires, mutually ſupport cach other.
Where the citizens of any free community are of dif-
ferent orders, cach order has a peculiar ſet of claims and
pretenſions: relatively to the other members of the ſtate, it
is a party; relatively to the differences of intereſt among its
own members, it may admit of numberleſs ſubdiviſions.
But in every ſtate there are two intereſts very readily ap-
prehended; that of a prince and his adherents, that of a no-
bility, or of any temporary faction, oppoſed to the people.
WHERE the ſovereign power is reſerved by the collective
body, it appears unneceſſary to think of additional eſtabliſh-
ments for fecuring the rights of the citizen. But it is dif-
ficult, if not impoſſible, for the collective body to exer-
ciſe this power in a manner that ſuperſedes the neceſſity
of every other political caution.
1
1
I
If popular afſemblies affume every function of govern-
ment; and if, in the ſame tumultuous manner in which
they can, with great propriety, expreſs their feelings, the
fenſe of their rights, and their animoſity to foreign or
domeſtic enemies, they pretend to deliberate on points
of national conduct, or to decide queſtions of equity and
juſtice ; the public is expoſed to manifold inconvenien-
cies; and popular governments would, of all others, be
Ii
the
F
I
1
LP
N
1
250
Of Civil Liberty.
Part III
the moſt ſubject to errors in adminiſtration, and to weak:
neſs in the execution of public meaſures.
+
To avoid theſe diſadvantages, the people are always
contented to delegate part of their powers. They eſtablſh
a ſenate to debate, and to prepare, if not to determine,
queſtions that are brought to the collective body for a final
reſolution. They commit the executive power to ſome
council of this fort, or to a magiſtrate who preſides in their
meetings. Under the uſe of this. neceſſary and common
expedient, even while democratical forms are moſt care,
fully guarded, there is one party of the few, another of
the many. One attacks, the other defends ;. and they are
both ready to aſſume in their turns. But though; in reality,
a great danger to liberty ariſes on the part of the people
themſelves, who, in times of corruption, are eaſily made
the inſtruments of ufurpation and tyranny; yet, in the or-
dinary aſpect of government, the executive carries an air
of fuperiority, and the rights of the people ſeem always
expoſed to incroachment..
+
THOUGH on the day that the Roman people were affem--
bled, the ſenators mixed with the croud, and the conſul
was no more than the ſervant of the multitude ;: yet, when
this awfúf, meeting was diſſolved; the ſenators-met to pre-
ſcribe buſinefs. for their ſovereign, and the conſul went
armed with the axe and the rods, to teach every Roman,
in his ſeparate capacity; the ſubmiſſion, which he owed
to the ſtate,
TH US9)
1
Scct. 6.
Of Civil Liberty,
251
Thus, even where the collective body is ſovereign,
they are aſſembled only occaſionally : and though on
ſuch occaſions they determine every queſtion relative to
their rights and their intereſts as a people, and can aſſert
their freedom with irreſiſtible force ; yet they do not think
themſelves, nor are they in reality, ſafe, without a inore
conſtant and more uniform power operating in their fa-
vour.
The multitude is every where ſtrong ; but requires,
for the ſafety of its members, when ſeparate as well as
when aſſembled, a liead to direct and to employ its
ſtrength. For this purpoſe, the ephori, we are told, were
eſtabliſhed at Sparta, the council of a hundred at Car-
thage, and the tribunes at Rome. So prepared, the po-
pular party has, in many inſtances, been able to cope
with its adverſaries, and has even trampled on the
powers, whether ariſtocratical or monarchical, with which
it would have been otherwiſe unable to contend. The
ſtate, in ſuch caſes, commonly ſuffered by the delays, in-
terruptions, and confuſions, which popular leaders, from
private envy, or a prevailing jealouſy of the great, ſeldom
failed to create in the proceedings of government.
WHERE the people, as in ſome larger communities,
have only a ſhare in the legiſlature, they cannot overwhelm
the collateral powers, who having likewiſe a ſhare, are
in condition to defend themſelves: Where they act only
by their repreſentatives, their force may be uniformly
employed.
I i 2
1
1
t
252
of Civil Liberty.
Part IIT.
employed. And they may make part in a conſtitùtion of
government more laſting than any of thoſe in which the
people poſſeſſing or pretending to the entire legiſlature,
are, when aſſembled, the tyrants, and, when diſperſed,
the ſlaves, of a diſtempered ſtate. In governments pro-
perly mixed, the popular intereſt, finding a counterpoiſe
in that of the prince or of the nobles, a balance is actually
eſtabliſhed between them, in which the public freedom
and the public order are made to confift.
1
From ſome ſuch caſual arrangement of different inter--
efts, all the varieties of mixed government proceed ; and on
the degree of confideration which every ſeparate intereſt
can procure to itſelf, depends the equity of the laws they
enact, and the neceſſity they are able to impoſe, of ad-
hering ſtrictly to the terms of law in its execution. States.
are accordingly unequally qualified to conduct the buſi-
neſs of legiſlation, and unequally fortunate in the com-
pleteneſs, and regular obſervance, of their civil code.
In democratical eſtabliſhments, citizens, feeling them-
ſelves poſſeſſed of the ſovereignty, are' not equally anxious,
with the ſubjects of other. governments, to have their
rights explained, or ſecured, by actual ſtatute. They
truſt to perſonal. vigour, to the ſupport of party, and to
the ſenſe of the public.
If the collective body perform the office of judge, as.
well as of legiſlator, they feldom think of deviſing rules for
their own direction, and are found ſtill more ſeldom to.
33
follow:
}
1
f
253
L
Sect. 6, Of Civil Liberty.
follow any determinate rule, after it is made. They dif-
penſe, at one time, with what they enacted at another;
and in their judicative, perhaps even more than in their
legiſlative, capacity, are guided by paſſions and partia-
lities, that ariſe from circumſtances of the caſe before.
them.
But under the ſimpleſt governments of a different fort,
whether ariſtocracy or monarchy, there is a neceſſity for
law, and there are a variety of intereſts to be adjuſted in.
framing every ſtatute. The ſovereign wiſhes to give ſtabi--
lity and order to adminiftration, by expreſs and promulga-
ted rules. The ſubject wiſhes to know the conditions and
limits of his duty. He acquiefces, or he revolts, accor-
ding as the terms on which he is made to live with the ſo-
vereign, or with his fellow-ſubjects, are, or are not, con-.
ſiſtent with the ſenſe of his rights.
.
1
NEITHER the monarch, nor the council of nobles,
where either is poſſeſſed of the ſovereignty, can pretend
to govern, or to judge at diſcretion. No magiſtrate whe-.
ther temporary or hereditary, can with ſafety neglect
that reputation for juſtice and equity, from which his
authority, and the reſpect that is paid to his perſon, are
in a great meaſure derived. Nations, however, have
been fortunate in the tenor, and in the execution of their
laws, in proportion as they have admitted every order of
the people, by repreſentation or otherwiſe, to an actual
ſhare of the legiſlature. Under eſtabliſhments of this fort,
law.is literally a treaty, to which the parties concerned
llave.
+
3
254
of Civil Liberty.
Part III.
6
have agreed, and have given their opinion in fettling
its terms. The intereſts to be affected by a law, are likc-
wiſe conſulted in making it. Every claſs propounds an
objection, ſuggeſts an addition or an amendment of its
own. They proceed to adjuſt, by ſtatute, every ſubject
of controverſy: and while they continue to enjoy their
freedom, they continue to multiply laws, and to accumu-
late volumes, as if they could remove every poſſible ground
of diſpute, and were ſecure of their rights, merely by
having put tircm in writing.
Rome and England, under their mixed governments,
the one inclining to democracy, the other to monarchy,
have proved the great legiſlators among nations. The
firſt has left the foundation, and great part of the ſuper-
ítructure of its civil code, to the continent of Europe : the
other, in its iſland, has .carried the authority and govern-
ment of law to a point of perfection, which they never
before attained in the hiſtory of mankind.
Under ſuch favourable eſtabliſhments, known cuſtoms,
the practice and deciſions of courts, as well as poſitive
ſtatutes, acquire the authority of laws, and every pro-
ceeding is conducted by ſome fixed and determinate rule.
The beſt and moſt effectual precautions are taken for the
iinpartial application of rules to particular caſes ; and
it is remarkable, that, in the two examples we have men-
tioned, a ſurpriſing coincidence is found in the fingular
methods of their juriſdiction. The people in both reſerved
in a manner the office of judgement to themſelves, and
brouglit
w
*
.
1
5
+
Sect. 6.
Of Civil Liberty.
255
brought the deciſion of civil rights, or of criminal queſti-
ons, to the tribunal of peers, who, in judging of their
fellow-citizens, preſcribed a condition of life for them-
felves.
+
1
It is not in mere laws, after all, that we are to. look
for the ſecurities to juſtice, but in the powers by which
thoſe laws have been obtained, and without: whoſe con-
ftant ſupport they muſt fall to diſuſe: Statutes ſerve to
record the rights of a people, and ſpeak the intention of
parties to defend what the letter of the law has expreſſed:
but without the vigour to maintain wliat is acknow-
Tedged as a right, the mere record, or the feeble intention;
is of little avail..
1
1
A populace rouſed by oppreſſion, or an order of men
poſſeſſed of a temporary advantage, have obtained many
charters, conceſſions, and' ftipulations, in favour of their .
claims; but where no adequate preparation was mad
preſerve them, the written articles were often forgotten;
together with the occaſion on which they were framed:
to
.
***
THE hiſtory of England, and" of every free country;
abounds with the example of ſtatutes enacted when the
people or their repreſentatives aſſembled, but never ex-
ecuted when the crown or the executive was left to itſelf.
The moſt equitable laws on paper are conſiſtent with the
atmoſt deſpotiſm in adminiſtration. Even the form of
trial by juries in England had its authority in law,
while
1
256
Of Civil Liberty.
Part 111.
1
1
while the proceedings of courts' werc arbitrary and op-
preſlive.
We muſt admire, as the key-ſtone of civil liberty, the
ſtatute which forces the ſecrets of every priſon to be re.
vealed, the cauſe of every commitment to be declared,
and the perſon of the accuſed to be produced, that he
may claim his enlargement, or his trial, within a limited
time. No wiſer form was ever oppoſed to the abuſes of
power. But it requires a fabric no leſs than the whole
political conſtitution of Great Britain, a fpirit no leſs than
the refractory and turbulent zeal of this fortunate people,
to ſecure its effects.
.
If even the ſafety of the perſon, and the tenure of pro-
perty, which may be ſo well defined in the words of a
ſtatute, depend, for their preſervation, on the vigour and
jealouſy of a free people, and on the degree of confidera-
tion which every order of the ſtate maintains for itſelf;
it is ſtill more evident, that what we have called the po.
litical freedom, or the right of the individual to act in
his ſtation for himſelf and the public, cannot be made
to reſt on any other foundation. The cítate may be ſaved,
and the perſon releaſed, by the forms of a. civil proce-
dure; but the rights of the mind. cannot be ſuſtained
by any other force but its own.
1
SLC T.
1
.
1
A
!
Sect. y.
Of the Hiſtory of Arts.
257
SECT
CT
VII.
Of the Hiſtory of Arts.
W
3
E have already obſerved, that art is natural to
man; and that the ſkill he acquires after many
ages of practice, is only the improvement of a talent le
poſſeſſed at the firſt.
Vitruvius finds the rudiments of
architecture in the form of a Scythian cottage. Thc
armourer may find the firſt productions of his calling in
the ſling and the bow; and the ſhip-wright of his in the
canoe of the ſavage. Even the hiſtorian and the poet
may find the original eſſays of their arts in the tale, and
the ſong, which celebrate the wars, the loves, and the ad-
ventures of men in their rudeſt condition.
DESTINED to cultivate his own nature, or to mend his
ſituation, man finds a continual ſubject of attention, in-
genuity, and labour. Even where he does not propoſe
any perſonal improvement, his faculties are ſtrength-
ened by thoſe very exerciſes in which he ſeems to forger
himſelf: his reaſon and his affections are thus profitably
engaged in the affairs of ſociety ; his invention and his
ſkill are exerciſed in procuring his accommodations and
his food ; his particular purſuits are preſcribed to him
by circumſtances of the age and of the country in which
he lives : in one ſituation he is occupied with wars and
political deliberations ; in another, with the care of his
Kk
intereſt,
+
.
258
Of the Hiſtory of Arts. Part IIT:
}
intereſt, of his perſonal caſe, or conveniency. He ſuits
his means to the ends he lias in view; and, by multiply-
ing contrivances, proceeds, by degrees, to tlie perfection
of his arts.
. In every ſtep of his progreſs, if his ſkill
be increaſed, his deſire muſt likewiſe have time to extend:
and it would be as vain to ſuggeſt a contrivance of which
he ſlighted the uſe, as it would be to tell him of bleſſings.
which he could not command.
F
Ages are generally ſuppoſed to liave borrowed from
thoſe who went before them, and nations to have received
their portion of learning or of art from abroad. The
Romans are thought to have learned from the Greeks,
and the moderns of Europe from both. From a few ex-
amples of this fort, we learn to conſider every ſcience or
art as derived, and admit of nothing original in the practice
or manners of any people. The Greek was a copy of the
Egyptian, and even the Egyptian was an imitator, thouglı
we have loſt ſight of the model on which he was formed.
It is known, that men improve by example and in-
tercourſe ; but in the caſe of nations, whoſe members ex-
cite and direct cach other, why ſeek from abroad the
origin of arts, of which every ſociety, having the prin-
ciples in itſelf, only requires a favourable occaſion to
bring them to light? When ſuch occaſion preſents itſelf
to any people, they generally ſeize it; and while it con-
tinues, they improve the inventions to which it gave
riſe among themſelves, or they willingly copy from
others: but they never employ their own invention, nor
3
look
1
1
1
Sect. 7.
Of the Hiſtory of Arts.
259
look abroad, for inſtruction on fubjects that do not lie
in the way of their common purſuits ; they never adopt
a refinement of which they have not diſcovered the
uſe.
1
INVENTIONS, we frequently obſerve, are accidental ;
but it is probable, that an accident which eſcapes the
artiſt in one age, may be ſeized by one who ſucceeds him,
and who is better appriſed of its uſe. Where circum-
ſtances are favourable, and where a people is intent on
the objects of any art, every invention is preſerved, by
being brought into general practice; every model is ftu-
died, and every accident is turned to account. If natin
ons actually borrow from their neighbours, they proba-
bly borrow only what they are nearly in a condition to
have invented themſelves,
ANY ſingular practice of one country, thercfore, 'is ſel-
dom transferred to another, till the way be prepared by
the introduction of ſimilar circumſtances. . Hence our
frequent complaints of the dulneſs or obſtinacy of man-
kind, and of the dilatory communication of arts, from
one place to another. While the Roinans adopted the
arts of Greece, the Thracians and Illyrians continued to
behold them with indifference. Thoſe arts were, during
one period, confined to the Greek colonics, and during
another, to the Roman. Even whcre they were ſpread
by a viſible intercourſe, they were ſtill received by in-
dependent nations with the flowneſs of invention. They
made a progreſs not more rapid at Rome than they had
Kk 2
clone
1
1
1
200
Of the Hiſtory of Arts.
Part III.
1
done at Athens; and they paſſed to the extremities of the
Roman empire, only in company with new colonies, and.
joined to Italian policy.
The modern race, who came abroad to the poſſeſſion:
of cultivated provinces, retained the. arts they had practi--
fed at home: the new maſter hunted the boar, or paſtu-
red his herds, where he might have raiſed a plentiful
liarveſt: he built a cottage in the view of a palace: he
buried, in one common ruin, the edifices, ſculptures,
paintings, and libraries, of the former inhabitant : he
made a fettlement upon a plan of his own, and opened
anew the ſource of inventions, without perceiving from
a diſtance to what length their progreſs might lead hisă
pofterity. The cottage of the preſent race, like that of
the former, by degrees enlarged its dimenſions ;. public
buildings acquired a magnificence in a new taſte. Even
this taſte came, in a courſe of ages, to be exploded, and
the people of Europe recurred to the models which their:
fathers deſtroyed, and wept over the ruins which they.
could not reſtore..
!
4
1
The literary remains of antiquity were ſtudied and imi-
tated, only after the original genius of modern nations had
broke forth: the rude efforts of poetry in Italy and Pro-
vence, reſemble thoſe of the Greeks and the ancient
Romans. How far the merit of our works might, witha-
out the aid of their models, have riſen by ſucceſſive im--
provements, or whether we have gained more by imita-
tion than we have loſt by quitting our native ſyſtem of
thinking, and our vein of. fable, muſt be left to conjecture:
ነ 1
We
!
HI
1
Sect. 7.
Of the Hiſtory of Arts.
261
We are certainly indebted to them for the materials, as
well as the form, of many of our compoſitions ; and with-
out their example, the ſtrain of our literature, together
with that of our manners and policy, would have been
different from what they at preſent are. This much how-
ever may be ſaid with aſſurance, that although the Ro-
man and the modern literature favour alike of the Greek
original, yet mankind in either inſtance would not have
drank of this fountain, unleſs they had been haſtening
to open ſprings of their own. .
1
2
1
SENTIMENT and fancy, the uſe of the hand or the head,
are not inventions of particular men ; and the flouriſhing
of arts that depend on them, are, in the caſe of any
people, a proof rather of political felicity at home, than
of any inſtruction received from abroad, or of any natural
ſuperiority in point of induſtry or talents..
N
When the attentions of men are turned toward parti-
cular ſubjects, when the acquiſitions of one age are left
entire to the next, when every individual is protected
in his place, and left to purſue the ſuggeſtion of his wants,
inventions accumulate; and it is difficult to find the ori,
ginal of any art. The ſteps which lead to perfection are
many; and we are at a loſs on whom to beſtow the greateſt
dhare of our praiſe; on the firſt or on the laſt who may:
have borne a part in the progreſs.
som
262
Part III.
Of the Hiſtory of Literature.
-
-
SECT.
VIII.
Of the Hiſtory of Literature.
IT
+
F we may rely on the general obſervations contained
in the laſt ſection, the literary, as well as mechanical
arts, being a natural produce of the human mind, will
riſe ſpontaneouſly where-ever men are happily placed ;
and in certain nations it is not more neceſſary to look
abroad for the origin of literature, than it is for the ſug-
geſtion of any of the pleaſures or exerciſes in which man-
kind, under a ſtate of proſperity and freedom, are ſuffici-
ently inclined to indulge themſelves,
We are apt to conſider arts as foreign and adventitious
to the nature of man: but there is no art that did not
find its occafion in human life, and that was not, in fome
one or other of the ſituations in which our ſpecies is
found, ſuggeſted as a means for the attainment of ſome
uſeful end.
end. The mechanic and commercial arts took
their riſc from the love of property, and were encoura-
ged by the proſpects of ſafety and of gain: the literary
and liberal arts took their riſe from the underſtanding,
the fancy, and the heart. They are inere exerciſes of the
mind in ſearch of its peculiar pleaſures and occupations.;
and are promoted by circumſtances that ſuffer the mind to
enjoy itſelf.
1
MEN
|
263
then
Sect: 8. Of the Hiſtory of Literature:
Men are equally engaged by the paſt, the preſent, and
the future, and are prepared. for every occupation that:
gives fcope to their powers. Productions therefore, whe-
ther of narration, fiction, or reaſoning, that tend to em-
ploy the imagination, or move the heart, continue for
ages a ſubject of attention, and a ſource of delight. The
memory of human tranſactions being preſerved in tradi-
tion or writing, is the natural gratification of a paſſion
that conſiſts of curioſity, admiration, and the love of
amuſement:
1
BEFORE many books are written, and before ſcience is
greatly advanced, the productions of mere genius are
ſometimes complete: the performer requires not the aid
of learning where his deſcription or ſtory relates to near
and contiguous objects; where it relates to the conduct
and characters of men with whom he himſelf has acted,
and in whoſe occupations and fortunes he. himſelf has
borne a part.
With this advantage, the poet is the firſt to offer the
fruits of his genius, and to lead in the career of thoſe
arts by which the mind is deſtined to exhibit its imagi-
nations, and to expreſs its paſſions. Every tribe of bar-
barians have their paſſionate or hiſtoric rhymes, which
contain the ſuperſtition, the enthuſiaſm, and the admira-
tion of glory, with which the. breaſts. of men, in the
earlieſt ſtate of ſociety, are poſſeſſed. They delight in
verſe-compoſitions, either becauſe the cadence of num-
bers: is natural to the language of ſentiment, or becauſe,
not:
1
*
1
1
.
264 Of the Hiſtory of Literature. Part III.
A
1
not having the advantage of writing, they are obliged to
bring the ear in aid of the memory, in order to facili-
tate the repetition, and inſure thc preſervation of their
works.
When we attend to the language which ſavages em-
ploy on any folemn occaſion, it appears that man is a
poet by nature. Whether at firſt obliged by the mere
defects of his tongue, and the ſçantineſs of proper expreſ-
ſions, or ſeduced by a.pleaſure of the fancy in ſtating the
analogy of its objects, he.. cloathes every conception in
image and metaphor. “ We have planted the tree of
peace,” ſays an American orator ; “ we have buried the
axe under its roots : we will henceforth repoſe' under
“ its fliade ; we will join to brighten the cliain that binds
our nations together." Such are the collections of me-
taphor which thoſe nations employ in their public ha-
rangues. They liave likewiſe already adopted thoſe lively
figures, and that daring freedom of language, which the
learned have afterwards found to well fitted to expreſs
the rapid tranſitions of the imagination, and the ardours
of a paſſionate mind.
If we are required to explain, how men could be
poets, or orators, before they were aided by the learning
of the ſcholar and the critic? we may inquire, in our turn,
how bodies could fäll by their weight, before the laws
of gravitation were recorded in books Mind, as well as
body, has laws, which are exemplified in the practice of
men,
16
A
1
1
265
Sect. 8. Of the Hiſtory of Literature.
men, and which the critic collects only after the example
lias ſhewn what they are.
Occasioned, probably, by the phyſical connection we
have mentioned, between the emotions of a heated imagi-
nation, and the impreſſions received from muſic and pa-
thetic ſounds, every tale among rude nations is repeated
in verſe, and is made to take the form of a ſong. The
carly hiſtory of all nations is uniform in this particular.
Prieſts, flateſmen, and philoſophers, in the firſt ages of
Grecce, delivered their inſtructions in poetry, and mixed
with the dealers in muſic and heroic fable.
ܪ
+
It is not ſo ſurpriſing, however, that poetry ſhould be
the firſt ſpecies of compoſition in every nation, as it is, that
a ſtyle apparently ſo difficult, and ſo far removed from
ordinary uſe, ſhould be almoſt as univerſally the firſt to
attain its maturity. The moſt admired of all poets lived
beyond the reach of hiſtory, almoſt of tradition. The
artleſs ſong of the ſavage, the heroic legend of the bard,
have ſometimes a magnificent beauty, which no change
of language can improve, and no refinements of the
critic reform *
WE
1
UNDER the ſuppoſed diſadvantage of a limited know-
ledge, and a rude apprehenſion, the ſimple poet has im-
preſſions that more than compenſate the defects of his
ſkill. The beſt ſubjects of poetry, the characters of the
violent and the brave, the generous and the intrepid,
* See tranNations of Gallic poetry, by James M.Pherſon-
I1
great
266
1
of the Hiſtory of Literature.
Part IIT.
!
great dangers, trials of fortitude and fidelity, are exhi-
bired within his view, or are delivered in traditions which
animate like truth, becauſe they are equally believed:
He is not engaged in recalling, like Virgil or Taflo, the
ſentiments or ſcenery of an age remote from his own:
he needs not be told by the critic *, to recollect what
another would have thought, or in what manner another
would have expreſſed his conception. The ſimple paſſions,
friendſhip, reſentment, and love, are the movements of
his own mind, and he has no occaſion to copy, Simple
and vehement in his conceptions and feelings, he knows
no diverſity of thought, or of ſtyle, to miſlead or to exerciſe
his judgment. He delivers the emotions of the heart, in
words ſuggeſted by the heart : for he knows no other.
And hence it is, that while we admire the judgment and
invention of Virgil, and of other later poets, theſe terms
appcar miſapplied to Homer. Though intelligent, as well
as ſublime, in his conceptions, we cannot anticipate the
lights of his underſtanding, nor, the movements of his
heart: he appears to ſpeak from inſpiration, not from
invention ; and to be guided in the choice of his thoughts
and expreſſions by a ſupernatural inſtinct, not by reflec-
tion.
.
1
1
I
The language of early ages is, in one reſpect, ſimple
and confined ; in another, it is varied and free: it allows
liberties, which, to the poet of after times, are denied.
* See Longinus.
IN
1
?
1
1
3
4
12
+
#
.267
1
Sect. 8. Of the Hiſtory of Literature.
In rude ages men are not ſeparated by diſtinctions
of rank or profeſſion. They live in one manner, and
fpeak one dialect. The bard is not to chuſc his ex-
preſſion among the fingular accents of different condi-
tions. He has not to guard his language from the pe-
culiar errors of the mechanic, the peaſant, the ſcholar,
or the courtier, in, order to find that elegant propriety,
and juſt elevation, which is free from the vulgar of one
claſs, the pedantic of the ſecond, or the flippant of the
third. The name of every object, and of every ſentiment,
is fixed; and if his conception has the dignity of nature,
his expreſſion will have a purity which does not depend
on his choice.
With this apparent confinement in the choice of his
words, he is at liberty to break through the ordinary
modes of conſtruction; and in the form of a language
not eſtabliſhed by rules, may find for himſelf a cadence
agreeable to the tone of his mind. The liberty he takes,
while his meaning is ſtriking, and his language is raiſed,
appears an improvement, not a treſpaſs on grammar. He
delivers a ſtyle to the ages that follow, and becomes a
model from which his poſterity judge.
1
i
1
But whatever may be the early diſpoſition of mankind
to poetry, or the advantages they poſſeſs in cultivating
this ſpecies of literature ; whether the early maturity of
poetical compoſitions ariſe from their being the firſt ſtú-
died, or from thei: having a charm to engage perſons of
the livelicít genius, who are beſt qualified to improve the
LI 2
eloquence
?
t
268 Of the Hiflory of Literature: ; Part III:
eloquence of their native rongue ; rit is: a remarkable fact,
triat; not only in countries wleivė Every vein of compofi '
tion was original, and was opened iti the order of natural
ſucceſſion ; but even at Rome, and in modern Europe,
where the learned began early to practice on foreign
models, we have poets of every nation, who are peruſed.
with pleaſure, while the profe writers of the fame ages
are neglected.
As Sophocles and Euripides preceded the hiſtorians and
moraliſts of Greece, not only Nævius and Ennius, who: ::
wrote the Roman hiſtory in verſe, but Lucilius, Plautus,
Terence, and we may add Lucretius, were prior to Cicero,
Sațluft, .or.Cæſar. . Dante and Petrarch went before any:
good proſe writer in Italy ; Corneille and Racine brought
on the fine age of proſe compoſitions in France ; and we
had in England, not only Chaucer and Spenſer, but Shakeſ-
pear and Milton, while our attempts in hiſtory or ſcience.,
were yet in their infancy; and deſerve our attention, only,
for the ſake of the matter they treat.
HELLANICUS, who is reckoned among the firſt proſe
writers in Greece, and who immediately preceded, or
was the contemporary of Herodotus, ſet out with declar-
ing his intention to reinove from hiſtory the wild repre-
ſentations, and exįravagant fictions, with which it had
been diſgraced by the poets * The want of records or
1
+
Quored by Demetriás Phalerius.
authorities,
+
2
3
+
Sect. 8.
Of the Hiſtory of Literature.
269
1
authorities, relating to any diſtant tranſactions, may
Have hindered him, as it did his immediate ſucceſſor,
from giving truth all the advantage it might have reaped
from this tranſition to profe. There are, however, ages
in the progreſs of ſociety, wlien ſuch a propoſition muft
be favourably received. When men become occupied on
the ſubjects of policy, or commercial arts, they wiſh to
be informed and inſtructed, as well as moved. They are
intereſted: by. what was real in paſt tranſactions. They
build on this foundation, the reflections and reaſonings
they apply to preſent affairs, and wiſh to receive informa,
tion on the ſubject of different purſuits, and of projects
in which tliey begin to be engaged. The manners of:
men, the practice of ordinary life, and the form of ſociety,
furniſh their ſubjects to the moral and political writer.
Mere ingenuity, juſtneſs of ſentiment, and correct repre-
ſentation, though conveyed in ordinary language, are
underſtood: to conſtitute literary: merit, and by applying
to reaſon more than to the imagination and paſſions,
meer with a reception that is due to the inſtruction..they.
bring
1
1
1
THE: talents: of men come to be cmployed in a varietyn
of affairs, and their inquiries, directed to different ſub-
jects. Knowledge is important in every department of
civil ſociețy, and requiſite to the practice of every art.
The ſcience of nature, morals, politics, and hiſtory, find :
their ſeveral admirers; and even poetry itſelf, which re-
tains its former ſtation in the region of warm imagina. -
tion
។
A
270 Of the Hiſtory of Literature, Part III.
tion and enthuſiaſtic paſſion, appears in a growing variety
of forins.
Matters have proceeded ſo far, without the aid of
foreign examples, or the direction of ſchools. The cart of
Theſpis was changed into a theatre, not to gratify the
learned, but to pleaſe the Athenian populace: and the
prize of poetical merit was decided by this populace equally
before and afrer the invention of rules. The Greeks were
unacquainted with every language but their own; and if
they became learned, it was only by ſtudying what they
themſelves had produced: the childiſh mythology, which
they are ſaid to have copied from Aſia, was equally of
little avail in promoting their love of arts, or their ſucceſs
in the practice of them.
When the hiſtorian is ftruck with the events he has
witneſſed, or heard ; when he is excited to relate them
by his reflections or his paſſions ; when the ſtateſman,
who is required to ſpeak in public, is obliged to prepare
for every remarkable appearance in ſtudied larangues ;
when converſation becomes extenſive and refined ; and
when the ſocial feelings and reflections of men are com-
mitted to writing, a ſyſtem of learning may ariſe from
the buſtle of an active life. Sociсty itſelf is the ſchool,
and its leſons are delivered in the practice of real affairs.
An author writes from obſervations he has made on his
ſubject, not from the ſuggeſtion of books ; and every
production carries the mark of his character as a man,
not of his mere proficiency as a ſtudent or ſcholar. It
may
1
1
1
Sect. 8.
Of the Hiflory of Literature.
271
may be made a queſtion, whether the trouble of ſeeking
for diſtant models, and of wading for inſtruction, through
dark alluſions and languages unknown, might not have
quenched his fire, and rendered him a writer of a very in-
ferior claſs.
1
If ſociety may thus be conſidered as a ſchool for let-
ters, it is probable that its leſſons are varied in every fe-
parate ſtate, and in every age. For a certain period, the
ſevere applications of the Roman people to policy and war
ſuppreſſed the literary arts, and appear to have ſtifled the
genius even of the hiſtorian and the poet. The inſtitu-
tions of Sparta gave a profeſſed contempt for whatever
was not connected with the practical virtues of a vigo-
rous and reſolute fpirit: the charms of imagination, and
the parade of language, were by this people claffed with
the arts of the cook and the perfumer : their ſongs in
praiſe of fortitude are mentioned by ſome writers; and
collections of their witty ſayings and repartees are ſtill
preſerved: they indicate the virtues and the abilities of
an active people, not their proficiency in ſcience or lite-
rary taſte. Poſſeſſed of what was eſſential to happineſs
in the virtues of the heart, they had a diſcernment of its
value, unimbarraſſed by the numberleſs objects on which
mankind in general are ſo much at a loſs to adjuſt their
eſteem : fixed in their own apprehenſion, they turned a
ſharp edge on the follies of mankind. 6
* begin to practiſe it?" was the queſtion of a Spartan to' a:
perfon.
2
1
1
1
1
+
1
272 Of the Hiſtory of Literature. Part Ill.
perſon who, in an advanced age of life, was ſtill occupied .
with queſtions on the nature of virtue.
+
While this people confined their ſtudies to one queſtion,
How to improve and to preſerve the courage and the
diſintereſted affections of the human heart? their rivals
the Athenians gave a ſcope to refinement on every object
of reflection or paſſion. By the rewards, either of profit
or of reputation, which they beſtowed on every effort of
ingenuity employed in miniſtering to the pleaſure, the de-.
coration, or the conveniency of life ; by the variety of
conditions in which their citizens were placed:; .by their
inequalities of fortune, and their ſeveral purſuits in war,
politics, commerce, and lucrative arts, they awakened
whatever was either good or bad in the natural difpofitions
of men. Every road to eminence was opened: eloquence,
fortitude, military ſkill, envy, detraction, faction, and trea-
fon, even the muſe herſelf, was .courted to beſtow impor-
tance among a buſy, acute, and turbulent people.
From this example, we may ſafely conclude, that
although buſineſs is ſometimes a rival to ſtudy, retire-
ment and leiſure are not the principal requiſites to the
improvement, perhaps not even to the exerciſe of lite-
rary talents. The moſt ſtriking exertions of imagination
and ſentiment have a reference to mankind : they are
excited by the preſence and intercourſe of men: they have
moſt vigour when actuated in the mind by the operation
of
1
A
}
273
1
Sect. 8. Of the Hiſtory of Literature.
of its principal ſprings, by the emulations, the friendſhips,
and the oppoſitions, which ſublift among a forward and
aſpiring people. Amidſt the great occaſions which put a
free, and even a licentious, fociety in motion, its mem-
bers become capable of every exertion ; and the ſame
ſcenes which gave employment to Themiſtocles and
Thraſybulus, inſpired, by contagion, ihe genius of So-
phocles and Plato. The petulant and the ingenuous find
an equal ſcope to their talents ; and literary monuments
become the repoſitories of envy and folly, as well as of
wiſdom and virtue.
1
Greece, divided into many little ſtates, and agitated,
beyond any ſpot on the globe, by domeſtic contentions
and foreign wars, ſet the example in every ſpecies of li-
-terature." The fire was communicated to Rome; not when
the ſtate ceaſed to be warlike, and had diſcontinued her
political agitations, but when the mixed the love of re-
finement and of pleaſure with her national purſuits, and
indulged an inclination to ſtudy in the midſt of ferments,
occaſioned by the wars and pretenſions of oppoſite fac-
tions. It was revived in modern Europe among the tur-
bulent ſtates of Italy, and ſpread to the North, together
with the ſpirit which ſhook the fabric of the Gothic po-
licy; it roſe while men were divided into parties, under
civil or religious denominations, and when they were
at variance on ſubjects held the moſt important and
ſacred,
M m
WE
0
-
..
274 Of the Hiſtory of Literature. Part IV.
+
We may be ſatisfied, from the example of many ages,
that liberal endowments · beſtowed on learned ſocieties,
and the leiſure with which they were furniſhed for ſtudy,
are not the likelieſt means to excite the exertions of ge-
nius: even ſcience itſelf, the ſuppoſed offspring of leiſure,
pined in the ſhade of monaſtic retirement. Men at a diſ-
tance from the objects of uſeful knowledge, untouched
by the motives that animate an active and a vigorous
mind, could produce only the jargon of a technical lan-
guage, and accumulate the impertinence of academical
forms.
1
!
To ſpeak or to write juſtly from an obſervation of
nature, it is neceſſary to have felt the ſentiments of na-
ture. He who is penetrating and ardent in the conduct
of life, will probably exert a proportional force and inge-
! nuity in the exerciſe of his literary talents : and although
writing may become a trade, and require all the applica-
tion and ſtudy which are beſtowed on any other calling ;
yet the principal requiſites in this calling are, the ſpirit
and ſenſibility of a vigorous mind.
1
In one period, the ſchool may take its light and di-
rection from active life ; in another, it is true, the re-
mains of an active ſpirit are greatly ſupported by literary
monuments, and by the hiſtory of tranſactions that
preſerve the examples and the experience of former and
of better times. But in whatever manner men
men are
formed for great efforts of elocution or conduct, it ap-
pears
1
3
Sect. 8, Of the Hiſtory of Literature.
: 275
pears the moſt glaring of all deceptions, to look for the
accompliſhments of a human character in the mere
attainments of ſpeculation, whilſt we neglect the quali-
ties of fortitude and public affection, which are fo necef-
ſary to render. our knowledge, an article. of happineſs
or of. uſe..
+
1
1
+
1
1
+
*
M m 2:
PART
1
1
t
+
.
276
Of the Separation of
Part IV.
PART FOURT H.
Of Conſequences that reſult from the
Advancement of Civil and Commercial
Arts.
S E C T.
I.
Of the Separation of Arts and Profeſſions.
IT
T is evident, that, however urged bya ſenſe of necef-
fity, and a deſire of convenience, or favoured by any
advantages in ſituation and policy, a people can make no
great progreſs in cultivating the arts of life, until they
have ſeparated, and committed to different perſons, the fe-
veral taſks, which require a peculiar ſkill and attention.
The ſavage, or the barbarian, who muſt build and plant,
and fabricate for himſelf, prefers, in the interval of great
alarms and fatigues, the enjoyments of ſloth to the im-
provement of his fortune : he is, perhaps, by the diver-
fity of his wants, diſcouraged from induſtry; or, by his
divided
1
1
Sect. I.
Arts and Profeſſions.
277
divided attention, prevented from acquiring ſkill in the
management of any particular ſubject.
The enjoyment of peace, however, and the proſpect
of being able to exchange one commodity for another,
turns, by degrees, the hunter and the warrior into a
tradeſman and a merchant. The accidents which diſtri-
bute the means of ſubſiſtence unequally, inclination, and
favourable opportunities, aſſign the different occupations
of men; and a ſenſe of utility leads them, without end,
to ſubdivide their profeſſions.
--
The artiſt finds, that the more he can confine his at-
tention to a particular part of any work, his productions
are the more perfect, and grow under his hands in the
greater quantities. Every undertaker in manufacture
finds, that the more he can ſubdivide the taſks of his
workmen, and the more hands he can employ on ſeparate
articles, the more are his expences diminiſhed, and his
profits increaſed.
The conſumer too requires, in every
kind of commodity, a workmanſhip more perfect than
lands employed on a variety of ſubjects can produce;
and the progreſs of commerce is but a continued ſubdi-
viſion of the mechanical arts.
Every craft may ingroſs the whole of a man's atten-
tion, and has a myſtery which muſt be ſtudied or learned
by a regular apprenticeſhip. Nations of tradeſmen come
to conſiſt of members who, beyond their own particular
trade, are ignorant of all human affairs, and who may
contribute
278
Of the Separation of Part IV:
+
.
!
1
contribute to the preſervation and enlargement of their
commonwealth, without making its intereſts an object of
their regard or attention. Every individual is diſtinguiſhed
by his calling, and has a place to which he is fitted. The
ſavage, who knows no diſtinction but that of his merit,
of his fex, or of his ſpecies, and to whom his community
is the ſovereign object of affection, is: aſtoniſhed to find
that in a ſcene of this nature, his being a man does not
qualify him for any ſtation whatever : he flies to the woods
with amazement, diſtaſte, and averfion.
By the ſeparation of arts and profeſſions, the ſources of
wealth are laid open; every ſpecies of material is wrought
up to the greateſt perfection, and every commodity is
produced in the greateſt abundance. The ſtate may eſti-
mate its profits and its revenues by the number of its
people. It may procure, by its treaſure, that national
confideration and power, which the favagę. maintains at
the expence of his blood:
The advantage gained in the inferior branches of ma-.
nufacture by the ſeparation of their parts, ſeem to be
equalled by thoſe which ariſe from a ſimilar device in the
higher departments of policy and war. The ſoldier is re-.
lieved from every care but that of his ſervice ; ſtateſmen
divide the buſineſs of civil government into ſhares; and
the ſervants of the public, in every office, without being :
ſkilful in the affairs of ſtate, may ſucceed, by obſerving
forms which are already eſtabliſhed on the experience of
others. They are made, like the parts of an engine, to
1
concur
1
+
1
+
Sect. I.
Arts and Profeſſionis.
279
concur to a purpoſe, without any concert of their own:
and, equally blind with the trader to any general combi-
nation, they unite with him, in furniſhing to the ſtate
its reſources, its conduct, and its force.
}
1
The artifices of the beaver, the ant, and the bee, are
aſcribed to the wiſdom of nature. Thoſe of poliſhed na-
tions are aſcribed to themſelves, and are ſuppoſed to in-
dicate a capacity ſuperior to that of rude minds. But'thc
eſtabliſhments of men, like thoſe of every animal, are
ſuggeſted by nature, and are the reſult of inſtinct, directed
by the variety of ſituations in which mankind are placed.
Thoſe eſtabliſhments aroſe from ſucceſſive improvements
that were made, without any ſenſe of their general effect;
and they bring human affairs to a ſtate of complication,
which the greateſt reach of capacity with which human
nature was ever adorned, could not have projected ; nor
even when the whole is carried into execution, can it be
comprehended in its full extent.
Who could anticipate, or even enumerate, the ſeparate
occupations and profeſſions by which the members of
any commercial ſtate are diſtinguiſhed ; the variety of de-
vices which are practiſed in feparate cells, and which
the artiſt, attentive to his own affair, has invented, to,
abridge or to facilitate his ſeparate taſk? In coming to this
mighty end, every generation, compared to its predecef-
fors, may have appeared to be ingenious ; compared to
its followers, may have appeared to be dull : and hu-
man ingenuity, whatever heights it may have gained in a
fucceffion
1
280
Of the Separation of
Part IV.
1
ſucceſſion of ages, continues to move with an equal pace,
and to creep in making the laſt as well as the firſt ſtep of
commercial or civil improvement.
1
It may even be doubted, whether the meaſure of na-
tional capacity increaſes with the advancement of arts.
Many mechanical arts, indeed, require no capacity; they
ſucceed beſt under a total ſuppreſſion of ſentiment and
reaſon ; and ignorance is the mother of induſtry as well
as of ſuperſtition. Reflection and fancy are ſubject to
err; but a habit of moving the hand, or the foot, is in-
dependent of either. Manufactures, accordingly, proſper
moſt, where the mind is leaſt conſulted, and where the
workſhop may, without any great effort of imagination,
be conſidered as an engine, the parts of which are men.
The foreſt has been felled by the favage without the
uſe of the axe, and weights have been raiſed without the
aid of mechanical powers. The merit of the inventor, in
every branch, probably deſerves a preference to that of the
performer; and he who invented a tool, or could work
without its aſſiſtance, deſerved the praiſe of ingenuity in
a much higher degree than the mere artiſt, who, by its
aſſiſtance, produces a ſuperior work.
.
But if many parts in the practice of every art, and in
the detail of every department, require no abilities, or
actually tend to contract and to limit the views of the
mind, there are others which lead to general reflections,
and to enlargement of thought. Even in manufacture,
the
Sect. I.
Arts and Profeſſions.
281
the genius of the maſter, perhaps, is cultivated, wliile
that of the inferior workman lies waſte. The ſtateſman
may have a wide comprehenſion of human affairs, while
the tools he employs are ignorant of the ſyſtem in which
they are themſelves combined. The general officer may
be a great proficient in the knowledge of war, while the
ſkill of the ſoldier is confined to a few motions of the
hand and the foot. The former may have gained, what
the latter has loft ; and being occupied in the conduct of
diſciplined armies, may practiſe on a larger ſcale, all the
arts of preſervation, of deception, and of ſtratagem,
which the favage exerts in leading a ſmall party, or merely
in defending himſelf.
21
1
The practitioner of every art and profeſſion may af-
ford matter of general ſpeculation to the man of ſcience;
and thinking itſelf, in this age of ſeparations, may be-
come a peculiar craft. In the buſtle of civil purſuits and
occupations, men appear in a variety of lights, and ſug-
geſt matter of inquiry and fancy, by which converſation
is enlivened, and greatly enlarged. The productions of
ingenuity are brought to the market; and men are wil.
ling to pay for whatever has a tendency to inform or amuſe.
By this means the idle, as well as the buſy, contribute to
forward the progreſs of arts, and to beſtow on poliſhed
nations that air of ſuperior ingenuity, under which they
appear to have gained the ends that were purſued by the
Tavage in his.foreſt, knowledge, order, and wealth,
+
Nn
S E G T.
.
282
Part IV
Of the Subordination conſequent to the
+
S E C T.
II.
5
1
Of the Subordination conſequent to the Separation of Arts
and Profeſſions.
TI
HERE is one ground of ſubordination in the dif-
ference of natural talents and diſpoſitions ; a ſecond
in the unequal diviſion of property ; and a third, not leſs
ſenſible, in the habits, which are acquired by the practice
of different arts.
SOME employments are liberal, others mechanic. They
require different talents, and inſpire different ſentiments ;
and whether or not this be the cauſe of the preference we
actually give, it is certainly reaſonable to form our opi-
nion of the rank that is due to men of certain profeſſions
and ſtations, from the influence of their manner of life in
cultivating the powers of the mind, or in preſerving the
ſentiments of the heart.
THERE is an elevation natural to man, by which he
would be thought, in his rudeſt ſtate, however urged by
neceflity, to riſe above the confideration of mere fubfift-
ence, and the regards of intereſt: He would appear to
act only from the heart, in its engagements of friendſhip;
or oppoſition ; he would ſhew himſelf only upon occa-
fions of danger or difficulty, and leave ordinary cares to
the weak or the ſervile.
4
THE
+
1
A
Sect. 2.
283
។
Separation of Arts and Profeſions.
The ſame apprehenſions, in every ſituation, regulate
his notions of meanneſs or of dignity. In that of poliſhed
fociety, his deſire to avoid the character of fordid, makes
him conceal his regard for what relates merely to his
preſervation or his livelihood. In his eſtimation, the beg-
gar, who depends upon charity; the labourer, who toils
that he may eat; the mechanic, whoſe art requires no ex-
ertion of genius, are degraded by the object they purſue,
and by the means they employ to attain it, Profeſſions
requiring more knowledge and ſtudy ; proceeding on the
exerciſe of fancy, and the love of perfection ; leading to
applauſe as well as to profit, place the artiſt in a ſuperior
claſs, and bring him nearer to that ſtation in which men are
ſuppoſed to be higheſt; becauſe they are bound to no taſk;
becauſe they are left to follow the difpofition of the mind,
and to take that part in ſociety, to which they are led
by the ſentiments of the heart, or by the calls of the
public.
4
THIS laſt was the ſtation, which, in the diſtinction
betwixt freemen and ſlaves, the citizens of every ancient
republic ſtrove to gain, and to maintain for themſelves.
Women, or flaves, in the earlieſt ages, had been ſet
apart for the purpoſes of domeſtic care, or bodily labour;
and in the progreſs of lucrative arts, the latter were bred
to mechanical profeſſions, and were intruſted even with
merchandiſe for the benefit of their maſters. Freemen
would be underſtood to have no object beſide thoſe of
politics and war. In this manner, the honours of one
half of the ſpecies were ſacrificed to thoſe of the other ;
Nne
1
as
+
1
284
Of the Subordination conſequent to the Part IV.
as ſtones from the ſame quarry are buried in the foun-
dation, to ſuſtain the blocks which happen to be hewn
for the ſuperior parts of the pile. In the midſt of our enco-
miums beſtowed on the Greeks and the Romans, we are,
by this circumſtance, made to remember, that no human
inftitution is perfect.
In many of the Grecian ſtates, the benefits ariſing to
the free from this cruel diſtinction, were not conferred
equally on all the citizens. Wealth being uncqually di-
vided, the rich alone were exempted from labour ; the
poor were reduced to work for their own ſubſiſtence: in-
tereſt was a reigning paſſion in boch, and the poſſeſſion of
flaves, like that of any other lucrative property, became
an object of avarice, not an exemption from fordid atten-
tions. The entire effects of the inſtitution were obtain-
ed, or continued to be enjoyed for any conſiderable time,
at Sparta alone. We feel its injuſtice ; we ſuffer for the
helot, under the ſeverities and unequal treatment to
whiclı he was expoſed: but when we think only of the
ſuperior order of men in this ſtate; when we attend to
that elevation and magnanimity of ſpirit, for which dan-
had no terror, intereſt no means to corrupt ; when
we conſider them as friends, or as citizens, we are apt to
forget, like themſelves, that ſlaves have a title to be treated
like men.
We look for elevation of ſentiment, and liberality of
mind, among thoſe orders of citizens, who, by their con-
dition, and their fortunes, arc relieved from ſordid cares
and
ger
1
1
Sect. 2.
Separation of Arts and Profeffionis.
285
1
and attentions. This was the deſcription of a free man
at Sparta ; and if the lot of a llave among the ancients
was really more wretched than that of the indigent la-
bourer and the mechanic among the moderns, it may
be doubted, whether the ſuperior orders, who are in pof-
fefſion of conſideration and honours, do not proportio-
nally fail in the dignity which befits their condition. If
the pretenſions to equal juſtice and freedom thould ter-
minate in rendering every claſs equally ſervile and mer-
cenary, we make a nation of helots, and have no free cia
tizens.
.
IN every commercial ſtate, notwithſtanding any pre-
tenſion to equal rights, the exaltation of a few muſt de-
preſs the many. In this arrangement, we think that the
extreme meanneſs of ſome claſſes muſt ariſe chiefly from
the defect of knowledge, and of liberal education ;' and we
refer to ſuch claffes, as to an image of what our fpecies.
muſt have been in its rude and uncultivated ſtate. But we
forget how many circumſtances, eſpecially in populous ci-
ties, tend to corrupt the loweſt orders of men. Ignorance
is the leaſt of their failings. An admiration of wealth un-
poſſeſſed, becoming a principle of envy, or of ſervility ;
a habit of acting perpetually with a view to profit, and
under a ſenſe of ſubjection ; the crimes to which they
are allured, in order to feed their debauch, or to gratify
their avarice, are examples, not of ignorance, but of
corruption and baſeneſs. If the ſavage has not received
our inſtructions, he is likewiſe unacquainted with our
vices. He knows no ſuperior, and cannot be ſervile ; he
knows
11
1
1
܀
3
286 Of the Subordination conſequent to the Part IV.
I
knows no diſtinctions of fortune, and cannot be envious;
he acts from his talents in the higheſt ſtation which hu-
man ſociety can offer, that of the counſellor, and the
foldier of his country. Toward forming his ſentiments,
he knows all that the heart requires to be known; he can
diftinguiſh tlie friend whom he loves, and the public in-
tereſt which awakens his zeal.
!
The principal objections to democratical or popular
government, are taken from the inequalities which ariſe
among men in the reſult of commercial arts. And it
muſt be confeſſed, that popular aſſemblies, when compoſed
of men whoſe diſpoſitions are fordid, and whoſe ordinary
applications are illiberal, however they may be intruſted
with the choice of their maſters and leaders, are certainly,
in their own perſons, unfit to command. How can he
who has confined his views to his own ſubſiſtence or pre-
fervation be intruſted with the conduct of nations? Such
men, when admitted to deliberate on matters of ſtate,
bring to its councils confuſion and tumult, or ſervility
and corruption; and feldom ſuffer it to repoſe from rui-
nous factions, or the effect of reſolutions ill formed or ill
conducted.
0
The Athenians retained their popular government un-
der all theſe defects. The mechanic was obliged, under
a penalty, to appear in the public market-place, and to
hear debates on the ſubjects of war, and of peace. He
was tempted by pecuniary rewards, to attend on the trial
of civil and criminal cauſes. But notwithſtanding an
exerciſe
1
+
?
1)
ta
Sect. 2.
Separation of Arts and Profeſions. 287
exerciſe tending ſo much to cultivate their talents, the
indigent came always with minds intent upon profit, or
witli the habits of an illiberal calling. Sunk under the
ſenſe of their perſonal diſparity and weakneſs, they were
ready to reſign themſelves entirely to the influence of ſome
popular leader, who flattered their paſſions, and wrought
on their fears; or, actuated by envy, they were ready to
baniſh from the ſtate whomſoever was reſpectable and
eminent in the ſuperior order of citizens: and whether
from their neglect of the public at one time, or their
male-adminiſtration at another, tlie ſovereignty was every
moment ready to drop from their hands.
The people, in this caſe, are, in fact, frequently go-
verned by one, or a few, who know how to conduct
them. Pericles poffefſed a ſpecies of princely authority
at Athens ; Craffus, Pompey, and Cæſar, either jointly
or ſucceſſively, poſſeſſed for a conſiderable period the love-
reign direction at Rome.
WHETHER in great or in ſmall ſtates, democracy is
preſerved with difficulty, under the diſparities of condi-
tion, and the unequal cultivation of the mind, which at-
tend the variety of purſuits and applications, that fepa-
rate mankind in the advanced ſtate of commercial arts..
In this, however, we do but plead againſt the form of
democracy, after the principle is removed; and ſee the ab-
ſurdity of pretenſions to equal influence and confideration,
after the characters of men have ceaſed to be ſimilar.
1
S E. C. T.
1
288
Part IV:
Of the Manners of
.
SECT.
III.
Of the Manners of Poliſhed and Commercial Nations.
ANKIND, when in their rude ſtate, have a grear
MA
uniformity of manners ; but when civilized, they
are engaged in a variety of purſuits ; they tread on a larger
field, and ſeparate at a greater diſtance. If they be guided,
however, by ſimilar difpofitions, and by like ſuggeſtions
of nature, they will probably, in the end, as well as in
the beginning of their progreſs, continue to agree in many
particulars; and while communities admit, in their mem-
bers, that diverſity of ranks and profeſſions which we
have already deſcribed, as the conſequence or the founda-
tion of commerce, they will reſemble each other in many
effects of this diſtribution, and of other circumſtances-in
which they nearly concur.
Under every form of government, ftateſmen endeavour
to remove the dangers by which they are threatened from
abroad, and the diſturbances which moleft them at
home. By this conduct, if ſucceſsful, they in a few ages
gain an aſcendant for their country ;. eſtabliſh a frontier
at a diſtance from its capital ; they find, in the mutual
deſires of tranquillity, which come to poſſeſs mankind,
and in thoſe public eſtabliſhments which tend to keep the
peace of ſociety, a reſpite from foreign wars, and relief
from domeftic diſorders. They lcarn to decide every con-
teſt
.
1
1
Sect. 3.
Poliſhed and Commercial Nations.
289
teſt without tumult, and to ſecure, by the authority of
law, every citizen in the poſſeſſion of his perſonal rights.
In this condition, to which thriving nations aſpire, ,
and which they in ſome meaſure attain, mankind having
laid the baſis of ſafety, proceed to erect a ſuperſtructure
ſuitable to their views. The conſequence is various in
different ſtates; even in different orders of men of the
fame community ; and the effect to every individual cor-
reſponds with his ſtation. It enables the flateſman and
the foldier to ſettle the forms of their different procedure ;
it enables the practitioner in every profeſſion to purſue his
ſeparate advantage ; it affords the man of pleaſure a time
for refinement, and the ſpeculative, leiſure for literary con-
verſation or ſtudy.
In this ſcene, matters that have little reference to the
active purſuits of mankind, are made ſubjects of inqui-
ry, and the exerciſe of ſentiment and reaſon itſelf becomes
a profeſſion. The ſongs of the bard, the larangues of
the flateſman and the warrior, the tradition and the flory
of ancient times, are conſidered as the models, or the
carlieſt production, of ſo many arts, which it becomes
the object of different profeſlions to copy or to improve.
The works of fancy, like the ſubjects of natural hiſtory,
are diſtinguiſhed into claſſes and ſpecies ;. the rules of every
particular kind are diſtinctly collected ; and the library
is ſtored, like the warehouſe, with the finiſhed manu-
facture of different artiſts, who, with the aids of the gram-
marian
Oo
290
Part IV.
Of the Míanners of
1
marian and the critic, aſpire, each in his particular way,
to inſtruct the head, or to move the heart.
.
1
Everý nation is a motley aſſemblage of different cha-
racters, and contains, under any political form, ſome
examples of that variety, which the humours, tempers,
and apprehenſions of men, ſo differently employed, are
likely to furniſh. Every profeſſion has its point of ho-
nour, and its ſyſtem of manners; the merchant his punc-
tuality and fair dealing; the ſtateſman his capacity and
addreſs; the man of ſociety, his good-breeding and wit.
Every ſtation has a carriage, a dreſs, a ceremonial, by
which it is diftinguiſhed, and by which it fuppreſſes the
national character under that of the rank, or of the indi-
vidual.
This deſcription may be applied equally to Athens
and Rome, to London and Paris. The rude or the ſimple
obſerver would remark the variety he ſaw in the dwellings
and in the occupations of different men, not in the aſpect
of different nations. He would find, in the ſtreets of the
fame city, as great a diverſity, as in the territory of a
ſeparate people. He could not pierce through the cloud
that was gathered before him, nor ſee how the tradeſman,
mechanic, or fcholar, of one country, ſhould differ from
thoſe of another. But the native of every province can
diſtinguiſh the foreigner; and when he himſelf travels, is
Itruck with the aſpect of a ſtrange country, the moment
he paſſes the bounds of his own. The air of the perſon,
the tone of the voice, the idiom of language, and the
ſtrain
1
1
is
1
t
1
1
C
+
1
Sect. 3.
.
1
Poliſhed and Commercial Nations.
291
ſtrain of converſation, whether pathetic or languid, gay or
ſever?, are no longer the ſame.
MANY ſuch differences may ariſe among poliſhed nati-
ons, 'from the effects of climate, or from ſources of
faſhion, that are ſtill more hidden or unobſerved ; but
the principal diſtinctions on which we can reſt, are derived
from the part a people are obliged to act in their national
capacity; from the objects placed in their view by the
ftate; or from the conſtitution of government, which pre-
ſcribing the terms of ſociety to its ſubjects, has a great
influence in forming their apprehenſions and habits.
The Roman people, deſtined to acquire wealth by con-
queſt, and by the ſpoil of provinces ; the Carthaginians,
intent on the returns of merchandiſe, and the produce of
commercial ſettlements, muſt have filled the ſtreets of
their ſeveral capitals with men of a different diſpoſition
and aſpect. The Roman laid hold of his ſword when he
wiſhed to be great, and the ſtate found her armies pre-
pared in the dwellings of her people. The Carthaginian
retired to his counter on a ſimilar project; and, when the
ftate was alarmed, or had reſolved on a war, lent of his
profits to purchaſe an army abroad.
1
The member of a republic, and the ſubject of a mo-
narchy, muſt differ ; becauſe they have different parts af-
ſigned to them by the forms of their country: the one de-
ftined to live with his equals, or to contend, by his per-
fonal talents and character, for pre-eminence; the other,
OO 2
boin
in
1
1
1
)
1
292
Of the Manners of
Part IV,
+
born to a determinate ſtation, where any pretence to equa-
lity creates a confuſion, and where nought but precedence
is ſtudied. Each, when the inſtitutions of his country are
mature, may find in the laws a protection to his perſonal
righits ; but thoſc rights themſelves are differently under-
ſtood, and with a different ſet of opinions, give riſe to a
different temper of mind. The republican muſt act in the
ſtate, to ſuſtain his pretenſions ; he muſt join a party, in
order to be ſafe ; he muſt lead one, in order to be great.
The ſubject of monarchy refers to his birth for the honour
he claims ; he waits on a court, to fhew his importance;
and holds out the enfigns of dependence and favour, to
gain him eſteem with the public.
If national inſtitutions, calculated for the preſervation
of liberty, inſtead of calling upon the citizen to act for
himſelf, and to maintain his rights, ſhould give a ſecurity,
requiring, on his part, no perſonal attention or effort ; tliis
ſeeming perfection of government might weaken the
bands of ſociety, and, upon maxims of independence, fe-
parate and eſtrange the different ranks it was meant to
reconcile. Neither the parties formed in republics, nor
the courtly aſſemblies which meer in monarchical govern-
mcnts, could take place, where the ſenſe of a mutual de-
pendence ſhould ceaſe to ſummon their members together.
The reſorts for commerce might be frequented, and mere
amuſement might be purſued in the croud, while the pri-
vate dwelling became a retreat for reſerve, averſe to the
trouble ariſing from regards and attentions, which it might
be
t
Sect. 3.
Poliſhed and Commercial Nations.
293
{
11
be
part of the political creed to believe of no conſequence,
and a point of honour to hold in contempt.
This humour is not likely to grow either in republics
or monarchies : it belongs more properly to a mixture of
both; where the adminiſtration of juſtice may be better
ſecured; where the ſubject is tempted to look for equali-
ty, but where he finds only independence in its place;
and where he learns, from a ſpirit of equality, to hate
the very diſtinctions to which, on account of their real
importance, he pays a remarkable deference.
In either of the ſeparate forms of republic or monar-
chy, or in acting on the principles of either, men are ob-
liged to court their fellow-citizens, and to employ parts
and addreſs to improve their fortunes, or even to be ſafe.
They find in both a ſchool for diſcernment and
penetra-
tion ; but in the one, are taught to overlook the merits of
a private character, for the ſake of abilities that have
weight with the public; and in the other, to overlook
great and reſpectable talents, for the ſake of qualities en-
gaging or pleaſant in the ſcene of entertainment, and
private ſociety. They are obliged, in both, to adapt
themſelves with care to the faſhion and manners of their
country. They find no place for caprice or fingular hu-
mours. The republican muſt be popular, and the cour-
tier polite. The firſt muſt think himſelf well placed in
every company ; the other muſt chufe his reſorts, and
deſire to be diſtinguiſhed only where the ſociety itſelf is
eſteemed. With his inferiors, he takes the air of
protec-
1
tion;
1
.
1
1
294
Of the Manners of Part IV.
tion; and ſuffers, in his turn, the ſame air to be taken
with himſelf. It did not, perhaps, require in a Spartan,
who feared nothing but a failure in his duty, who loved
nothing but his friend and the ſtate, ſo conſtant a guard
on himſelf to ſupport his character, as it frequently does in
the ſubject of a monarchy, to adjuſt his expence and his
fortune to the deſires of his vanity, and to appear in a
rank as high as his birth, or ambition, can poſlibly
reach,
There is no particular, in the mean time, in which
we are more frequently unjuſt, than in applying to the
individual the ſuppoſed character of his country ; or
more frequently milled, than in taking our notion of a
people from the example of one, or a few of their mem-
bers. It belonged to the conſtitution of Athens, to have
produced a Cleon, and a Pericles; but all the Athenians
were not, therefore, like Cleon, or Pericles. Themiſto-
cles and Ariſtides lived in the ſame age ; the one adviſed
wliat was profitable ; the other told his country what was
juft.
1
1
1
1
1
1
Sect. 4.
Poliſed and Commercial Nations.
295
í
A 월
​S E C T.
IV.
1
The ſame ſubječt continued.
1
T
1
HE law of Nature, with reſpect to nations, is the
ſame that it is with reſpect to individuals : it gives to
the collective body a right to preſerve themſelves; to em-
ploy, undiſturbed, the means of life; to retain the fruits
of labour ; to demand the obſervance of ftipulations and
contracts. In the caſe of violence, it condemns the ag-
greffor, and eſtabliſhes, on the part of the injured, the
right of defence, and a claim to retribution. Its applica-
tions, however, admit of diſputes, and give riſe to va-
riety in the apprehenſion, as well as the practice of man-
kind.
1
.
Nations have agreed univerſally, in diſtinguiſhing
right from wrong; in exacting the reparation of injuries
by conſent or by force. They have always repoſęd, in
a certain degree, on the faith of treaties; but have acted
as if force were the ultimate arbiter in all their diſputes,
and the power to defend themſelves, the ſureſt pledge of
their ſafety. Guided by theſe common apprehenſions,
they have differed from one another, not merely in points
of form, but in points of the greateſt importance, reſpect-
ing the uſage of war, the effects of captivity, and the
rights of conqueſt and victory,
WHEN
1
296
Part IV.
Of the Manners of
1
Wuen a number of. independent communities have
been frequently involved in wars, and have had their
ſtated alliances and oppoſitions, they adopt cuſtoms which
they make the foundation of rules, or of laws, to be
obſerved, or alledged, in all their mutual tranſactions.
Even in war itſelf, they would follow a ſyſtem, and plead
for the obſervance of forms in their very operations for
mutual deſtruction,
The ancient ſtates of Greece and Italy derived their
manners in war from the nature of their republican go-
vernment; thoſe of modern Europe, from the influence of
monarchy, which, by its prevalence in this part of the
world, has a great effect on nations, even where it is not
the form eſtabliſhed. Upon the maxims of this govern-
inént, we apprehend a diſtinction between the ſtate and
its members, as that between the King and the people,
which renders war an operation of policy, not of popular
animoſity. While we ſtrike at the public intereft, we
would ſpare the private ; and we carry. a reſpect and con-
fideration for individuals, which often ſtops the iſſues of
blood in the ardour of victory, and procures to the pri-
foner of war a hoſpitable reception in the very city which
he came to deſtroy. Theſe practices are ſo well eſtabliſhed,
that ſcarcely any provocation on the part of an enemy,
or any cxigence of ſervice, can excuſe a treſpaſs on the
ſuppoſed rules of humanity, or ſave the leader who com-
mits it from becoming an object of deteftation and horror.
#
.
То
1
1
Sect. 4.
Poliſhed and Commercial Nations.
297
+
A
To this, the general practice of the Greeks and the .
Romans was oppoſite. They endeavoured to wound the
ftate by deſtroying its members, by defolating its terri-
tory, and by ruining the poſſeſſions of its ſubjects. They
granted quarter only to inſlave, or to bring the priſoner
to a more folemn execution ; and an enemy, when diſarmed,
was, for the moſt part, either ſold in the market, ov killed,
that he might never return to ſtrengthen his party.
When this was the iſſue of war, it was no wonder, that
battles were fought with deſperation, and that every for-
treſs was defended to the laſt extremity. The game of
human life went upon a high ſtake, and was played with
a proportional zeal.
The term barbarian, in this ſtate of manners, could
not be employed by the Greeks or the Romans in that
fenſe in which we uſe it ; to characteriſe a people regard-
leſs of commercial arts; profuſe of their own lives, and
of thoſe of others; vehement in their attachment to one
ſociety, and implacable in their antipathy to another.
This, in a great and ſhining part of their hiſtory was
their own character, as well as that of ſome other nations,
whom, upon this very account, we diſtinguiſh by the ap-
pellations of barbarous or rude.
It has been obſerved, that thoſe celebrated nations
are indebted, for a great part of their eſtimation, not to
the matter of their hiſtory, but to the manner in which it
has been delivered, and to the capacity of their hiſtori-
ans, and other writers. Their ſtory has been told by men
who
PP
1
0
298
Of the Manners of
Part IV.
1
who knew how to draw our attention on the proceedings
of the underſtanding and of the heart, more than on the
detail of facts; and who could exhibit characters to be ad-
mired and loved, in the midſt of actions which we ſhould
now univerſally hate or condemn. Like Homer, the model
of Grecian literarure, they could make us forget the horrors
of a vindictive, cruel, and remorſeleſs treatment of an
enemy, in behalf of the ſtrenuous conduct, the courage,
and vehement affections, with which the hero maintained.
the cauſe of his friend and of his country..
0
។
OUR: manners are ſo different, and the ſyſtem. upon
which we regulate our apprehenſions, in many things,
ſo oppoſite, that no leſs could make us endure the prac-.
tice of ancient nations. Were that practice recorded by.
the mere journaliſt, who retains only the detail of events;
without throwing any light on the character of the ac-.
tors ;, who, like thie Tartar hiſtorian, tells only. what
blood was ſpilt in the field, and how many inhabitants.
were maſſacred in tlie city; we ſhould never have diſtin “.
guiſhed the Greeks from their barbarous neighbours,
nor have thought, that the character of civility pertained
even to the Romans, till very late in their hiſtory, and in :
the decline of their empire..
It would, no doubt, be pleaſant to ſee thie remarks of.
ſuch a traveller as we ſometimes ſend abroad to inſpect .
the manners of mankind, left, unaſſiſted by hiſtory, to .
collect the character of the Greeks from the ſtate of their
country
1
Sect
A
Poliſhed and Commercial Nations.
299
country, or from their practice in war.
“ This country,"
he might ſay, “ compared to ours, has an air of barren-
“ nefs and deſolation. I ſaw upon the road troops of la-
« bourers, who were employed in the fields ; but no
46 where the habitations of the maſter and the land! Yrd.
< It was unſafe, I was told, to reſide in the country; and
" the people of every diſtrict crouded into towns to find
" a
a place of defence. It is indeed impoſſible, that they
«. can be more civilized, till they have eſtabliſhed ſome
regular government, and have courts of juſtice to hear
“ their complaints. At preſent, every town, nay, I may
“ ſay, every village, acts for itſelf, and the greateſt dif-
“ orders prevail. I was not indeed moleſted for
know, that they call themſelves nations, and do all their
is miſchief under the pretence of war.
66
;
you muſt
4
<6
“ I do not mean to take any of the liberties of travel-
" lers, nor to vie with the celebrated author of the
voyage to Lilliput; but cannot help endeavouring to
66 communicate what I felt on hearing them fpeak of
“ their territory, their armies, their revenue, treaties, and
“ alliances. Only imagine the church-wardens and con-
“ ſtables of Highgate or Hampſtead turned ſtareſmen and
generals, and you will have a 'tolerable conception of
" this fingular country. I paſſed through one ftate,
66 where the beſt houſe in the capital would not
as the meaneſt of your labourers, and where your very
“ beggars would not chuſe to dine with the King; and
yet they are thought a great nation, and have no leſs
I than two kings. I ſaw one of them ; but ſuch a poten-
PP 2
tate!
lodge
ale
300
T
Part IV.
1
Of the Manners of
1
1
1
1
“ tate! he had ſcarcely cloaths to his back.; and for his
“ Majeſty's table, he was obliged to go to the eating-houſe
“ with his ſubjects. They have not a ſingle farthing
"s of money; and I was obliged to get food at the public
expence, there being none to be had in the market. You
“ will imagine, that there muſt have been a ſervice of
plate, and great attendance, to wait on the illuſtrious
ſtranger ; but my fare was
a meſs of ſorry pottage,
brought me by a naked ſlave, who left me to deal with
" it as I thought proper: and even this I was in conti-
“ nual danger of having ſtolen from me by the children,
" who are as vigilant to ſeize opportunities, and as dex-
“ trous in ſnatching their food, as any ſtarved greyhound
you ever faw.
The miſery of the whole people, in
ſhort, as well as my own, while. I ſtaid there, was bear
yond deſcription. You would think that their whole at-
“ tention were to torment themſelves as much as they
can: they are even diſpleaſed with one of their kings
“ for being liked. He had made a preſent, while I was
6 there, of a cow to one favourite, and of a waiſtcoat to
" another *; and it was publickly ſaid, that this method
“ of gaining friends was robbing the public. My landlord
“ told me very gravely; that a man ſhould come under no
obligation that might weaken the love which he owes
to his country; nor form any perſonal attachment be-
yond the mere habit of living with his friend, and of
doing him a kindneſs when he can.
!
1
A
* Plutarch, in the life of Ageſilaus.
$6 I aſked
1
i
+
3
Sect. 42
Poliſhed and Commercial Nations.
301
+
1
" I aſked him once, Why they did not, for their own
fakes, enable their kings to aſſume a little more ſtate ?
“ Becauſe, ſays he, we intend them the happineſs of
living with men. When I found fault with their hou-
“ ſes, and ſaid in particular, that I was ſurpriſed they
“ did not build better churches ; What would you be
" then, ſays he, if you found religion in ſtone walls ?
“ This will ſuffice for a ſample of our converſation ; and
“ fententious as it was, you may believe I did not ſtay
long to profit by it.
" The people of this place are not quite ſo ſtupid.
6. There is a pretty large ſquare of a market-place, and
# fome tolerable buildings; and, I am told, they have
* ſome barks and lighters employed in trade, which
they likewiſe, upon occaſion, muſter into a fleet, like
“ my Lord Mayor's Mew.
Lord Mayor's fliew. But what pleaſes me moſt, is,
" that I am likely to get a paſſage from hence, and bid
« farewell to this wretched country. I have been at fome
pains to obſerve their ceremonies of religion, and to
pick up. curioſities. I have copied ſome inſcriptions,
ir as you will ſee when you come to peruſe my journal,
is and will then judge, whether I have met with enough
to compenſate the fatigues and bad entertainment to
66 which I have ſubmitted. As for the people, you will
" believe, from the ſpecimen I have given you, that they
“ could not be very engaging company: thougla poor and
“ dirty, they ſtill pretend to be proud ; and a fellow who
6. is not worth a groat, is above working for his liveli-
“ hood. They come abroad barefooted, and without
3
any
+
6
!
+
302
Of the Manners of Part IV.
;
any cover to the head, wrapt 'up in the coverlets under
-- which you would imagine they had flept. They throw
“ all off, and appear 'like ſo many naked cannibals, when
" they go to violent ſports and exerciſes ; at which they
-" higlily value feats of dexterity and ſtrength. Brawny
“ limbs, and muſcular arms, the faculty of ſleeping out
“ all nights, of faſting long, and of putting up with any
"s kind of food, are thought genteel accompliſhments.
They have no ſettled government that I could learn
.«« ſometimes the mob, and ſometimes the better fort, do
“ what they pleaſe : they meet in great crouds in the open
air, and feldom agree about any thing. If a fellow
" has preſumption enough, and a loud voice, he can
“ make a great figure. There was a tanner here, fome-
u time ago, who, for a while, carried every thing before
«« him. He cenſured ſo loudly what others had done, and
6 talked ſo big of what might be performed, that he
was ſent out at laſt to make good his words, and to
curry the enemy inſtead of his leather * You will ima-
gine, perhaps, that he was preſſed for a recruit ; no;-
“ he was ſent to command the army. They are indeed ſel-
“ dom long of one mind, except in their readineſs to ha-
.66.raſs their neighbour's. They go out in bodies, and rob,
6 pillage, and murder where-ever they come.' So far
may we ſuppoſe our traveller to have written ; and upon
a recollection of the reputation which thoſe nations have
* Thucydides, lib. 4. ----Ariſtophanes.
acquired
.
Sect: 40
Poliſhed and Commercial Nations.
303
acquired at a diſtance, he might have added, perhaps,
« That he could not underſtand how ſcholars, fine gentle-
men,
and even women, ſhould combine to admire a
" people, who fo little reſemble themſelves."
;
t
+
To form a judgment of the cliaracter from which
they acted in the field, and in their competitions with
neighbouring nations, we muſt obſerve them at home.
They were bold and fearleſs in their civil diffenfions
ready to proceed to extremities, and to carry their debates :
to the deciſion of force. Individuals ſtood diſtinguiſhed
by their perſonal ſpirit and vigour, not by the valuation
of their eftates, or the rank of their birth. They had a
perſonal. elevation founded' on the ſenſe of equality, not
of precedence. The general of one campaign was, during
the next, a private ſoldier, and ſerved in the ranks. They
were folicitous .to acquire bodily ſtrength; becauſe, in the
uſe of their weapons, battles were a trial of the ſoldier's
ſtrength, as well as of the leader's conduct. The remains
of their ſtatuary, ſhews a manly grace, an air of ſimpli-
city and eaſe, which being frequent in nature, were fami-
liar to the artiſt. The mind, perhaps, borrowed a confi-
dence and force, from the vigour and addreſs of the body;
their eloquence, and ſtyle bore a reſemblance to the car-
riage of the perſon. The underſtanding was chiefly cul-
tivated in the practice of affairs. The moſt reſpectable
perſonages were obliged to mix with the croud, and de-
rived their degree of aſcendèncy, only from their con-
duct, their eloquence and perſonal vigour. They had no
forms
304
Part IV.
Of the Manners of
forms of expreſſion, to mark a ceremonious and guarded
reſpect. Invective proceeded to railing, and the groffeſt
terms were often employed by the moſt admired and ac-
compliſhed orators. Quarrelling had no rules but the im-
mediate dictates of paſlion, which ended in words of re-
proach, in violence, and blows. They fortunately went
always unarmed; and to wear a ſword in times of
peace,
was among them the mark of a barbarian. When they
took arms in the diviſions of faction, the prevailing party
ſupported itſelf by expelling their opponents, by proſcrip-
tions, and bloodſhed. The uſurper endeavoured' to main-
tain his ſtation by the moſt violent and prompt executions.
He was oppoſed, in his turn, by conſpiracies and aſſaſſina-
tions, in which the moſt reſpectable citizens were ready
to uſe the dagger.
Such was the character of their fpirit, in its occaſio-
nal ferments at home; and it burſt commonly with a
ſuitable violence and force, againſt their foreign rivals
and enemies. The amiable plea of humanity was little
regarded by them in the operations of war. Cities were
razed, or inſlaved ; the captive fold, mutilated, or con-
demned to die.
1
WHEN viewed on this ſide, the ancient nations have
but a forry plea for eſteem with the inhabitants of mo-
dern Europe, who profeſs to carry the civilities of peace
into the practice of war; and who value the praiſe of in-
diſcriminate lenity at a higher rate than even that of mi-
litary proweſs, or the love of their country. And yet
they
I
Sect. 4.
Poliſhed and Commercial Nations.
305
1
they have, in other reſpects, merited and obtained our
praiſe. Their ardent attachment to their country; their
contempt of ſuffering, and of death, in its cauſe; their
manly apprehenſions of perſonal independence, which
rendered every individual, even under tottering eſtabliſh-
ments, and imperfect laws, the guardian of freedom to
his fellow-citizens; their activity of mind ; in ſhort, their
penetration, the ability of their conduct, and force of
their fpirit, have gained them the firſt rank among na-
tions.
If their animoſities were great, their affections were
proportionate: they, perhaps, loved, where we only pity;
and were ſtern and inexorable, where we are not merci-
ful, but only irreſolute. After all, the merit of a man is
determined by his candour and generoſity to his aſſociates
by his zeal for national objects, and by his vigour in
maintaining political rights; not by moderation alone,
which proceeds frequently from indifference to national
and public intereſts, and which ſerves to relax the nerves
on which the force of a private as well as a public charac-
ter depends.
WHEN under the Macedonian and the Roman mo-
narchies, a nation came to be conſidered as the eſtate of
a prince, and the inhabitants of a province to be regarded
as a lucrative property, the poſſeſſion of territory, not the
deſtruction of its people, became the object of conqueſt.
The pacific citizen had little concern in the quarrels of
Sovereigns; the violence of the ſoldier was refrained by
Qa
diſcipline.
I
306
Of the Manners of Part IV.
1
diſcipline. He fought; becauſe he was taught to carry
arms, and to obey: he ſometimes ſhed unneceſſary blood
in the ardour of victory ; but, except in the caſe of civil
wars, had no paſſions to excite his animoſity beyond the
field and the day of battle. Leaders judged of the objects
of an enterpriſe, and they arreſted the ſword when there
were obtained.
1
In the modern nations of Europe, where extent of
territory admits of a diſtinction between the ſtate and its.
ſubjects, we are accuſtomed to think of the individual
with compaſſion, ſeldom of the public with zeal. We
have improved on the laws of war, and on the lenitives
which have been deviſed to ſoften its rigours ; we have
mingled politeneſs with the uſe of the ſword; we have
learned to make war under the ſtipulations of treaties
and cartels, and truſt to the faith of an enemy whoſe ruin: ,
we meditate. Glory is more ſucceſsfully obtained by
ſaving and protecting, than by deſtroying the vanquiſhed:
and the moſt amiable of all objects is, in appearance, at-
tained; the employing of force, only for the obtaining
of jutice, and for the preſervation of national rights.
This is, perhaps, the principal characteriſtic, on which,
among modern nations, we beſtow the epithets of civilized
or of poliſhed. But we have ſeen, that it did not accompany
the progreſs of arts among the Greeks, nor keep pace
with the advancement of policy, literature, and philoſo-
phy. It did not await the returns of learning and polite-
neſs among the moderns ; it was found in early periods
6
of
+
t
+
+
Sect. 4.
2
1
+
Poliſhed and Cornmercial Nations.
307
of our hiſtory, anå diſtinguiſhed, perhaps, more than at
preſent, the manners of ages otherwiſe rude and undif-
ciplined. A King of France, priſoner in the hands of his
enemies, was treated, about four hundred years ago, with
as much diſtinction and courteſy, as a crowned lead, in
the like circumſtances, could poſſibly expect in this age
of politeneſs * The Prince of Conde, defeated and taken
n the battle of Dreux, ſlept at night in the ſame bed with
his enemy the Duke of Guiſe f.
If the moral of popular traditions, and the taſte of
fabulous legends, which are the production or entertain-
ment of particular ages, are likewiſe fure indications of
their notions and characters, we may preſume, that the
foundation of what is now hield to be the law of war,
and of nations, was laid in the manners of Europe, to-
gether with the ſentiments which are expreſſed in the
tales of chivalry, and of gallantry. Our fyſtem of war
differs not more from that of the Greeks, than the fa-
vourite characters of our early romance differed from
thoſe of the Iliad, and of every ancient poem. The hero
of the Greek fable, endued with ſuperior force, courage,
and addreſs, takes every advantage of an enemy, to kill
with ſafety to himſelf; and actuated by a deſire of ſpoil, or
by a principle of revenge, is never ſtayed in his progreſs by
interruptions of remorſe or compaſſion. Homer, who, of
1
* Hume's Hiſtory of England.
!
* Davila,
Qq2
all
+
1
308
Part IV.
Of the Manners of
all poets, knew beſt how to exhibit the emotions of a vehe-
ment affection, ſeldom attempts to excite commiſeration.
Hector falls unpitied; and his body is inſulted by every
Greck.
Our modern fable, or romance, on the contrary, ge-
nerally couples an object of pity, weak, oppreſſed, and
defenceleſs, with an object of admiration, brave, gene-
rous, and victorious ; or ſends the hero abroad in ſearch
of mcre danger, and, of occaſions to prove his valour.
Charged with the maxims of a refined courteſy, to be ob-
ſerved even towards an enemy; and of a ſcrupulous ho-
nour, which will not ſuffer him to take any advantages by.
artifice or ſurpriſe ; indifferent to ſpoil, he contends only
för renown, and employs,his valour to reſcue the diſtreſſed;
and to protect the innocent. If victorious, he is made to
riſe above nature as much in his generoſity and gentleneſs,
as in his military proweſs and valour.
1
It may be difficult, upon ſtating this contraſt between
the ſyſtem of ancient and modern fable, to aſſign, among
nations equally rude, equally addicted to war, and equally
fond of military glory, the origin of apprehenfions on the
point of Honour, ſo different, and ſo oppoſite. The hero
of Greek poetry proceeds on the maxims of animoſity
and hoſtile paſſion. His. maxims in war are like thoſe
which prevail in the woods of America. They require
him to be brave, but they allow him to practiſe againſt
his enemy every ſort of deception. The hero of modern
romance
1
Sect. fio
Poliſhed and Commercial Nations.
3:09
1
**
romance profeſſes a contempt of ſtratagem, as well as of
danger, and unites in the ſame perſon, characters and
diſpoſitions ſeemingly oppoſite; ferocity with gentleneſs,
and the love of blood with ſentiments of tenderneſs and
pity.
The ſyſtem of chivalry, when completely formed, pro-
ceeded on a marvellous reſpect and veneration to the fair
ſex, on forms of combat eſtabliſhed, and, on a ſuppoſed
junction of the heroic and fanctified character. The for-
malities of the duel, and a kind of judicial challenge,
were known among the ancient Celtic nations of Europe
The Germans, even in their native foreſts, paid a kind of
devotion to the female ſex. The Chriſtian religion in-
joined meekneſs and compaſſion to barbarous ages. Theſe
different principles combined together, may have ſerved
as the foundation of a ſyſtem, in which courage was di-
rected by religion and love, and the warlike and gentle
were united together. When the characters of the hero
and the ſaint were mixed, the mild ſpirit of Chriſtianity,
though often turned into venom by the bigotry of oppoſite.
parties, though it could not always fubdue the ferocity
of the warrior, nor ſuppreſs the admiration of courage
and force, may have confirmed the apprehenſions of men
in what was to be held meritorious and ſplendid in the.
conduct of their quarrels.
In the early and traditionary hiſtory of the Greeks:
and the Romans, rapes were aſligned as the moſt: free.
* Liv. lib. 28. c. 21,
1
quent
0
!
ma
1
310
Of the Manners of Part IV.
quent occaſions of war ; and the ſexes were, no doubt,
at all times, equally important to each other. The en-
thuſiaſm of love is moſt powerful in the neighbourhood
of Aſia and Africa ; and beauty, as a poſſeſſion, was pro-
bably more valued by the countrymen of Homer, than
it was by thoſe of Amadis de Gaul, or by the authors of
modern gallantry." What wonder,” ſays the old Priam,
when Helen appeared, “ that nations ſhould contend for
“ the poſſeſſion of ſo much beauty?" This beauty, in-
deed, was poſſeſſed by different lovers ; a ſubject on which
the modern hero had many .refinements, and ſeemed to
foar in the clouds. He adored at a reſpectful diſtance,
and employed his valour to captivate the admiration,
not to gain the poſſeſſion of his miſtreſs. A cold and un-
conquerable chaſtity was ſet up, as an idol to be worſhip-
ped, in the toils, the ſufferings, and the combats of the hero
and the lover.
+
The feudal eſtabliſhments, by the high rank to which
they elevated certain farnilies, no doubt greatly favoured
this romantic ſyſtem. Not only the luſtre of a noble def-
cent, but the ſtately caſtle beſet with battlements and tow-
ers, -ferved to inflame the imagination, and to create a
veneration for the daughter and ſiſter of gallant chiefs,
whoſe point of honour it was to be inacceſſible and chaſte,
and who could perceive no merit but that of the high-
minded and the brave, nor to be approached in any other
accents than thoſe of gentleneſs and reſpect.
+
WHAT
1
1
4
1
Sect. 4
Poliſhed and Commercial Nations...
32:
1
1
1
What was originally fingular in theſe apprehenſions,
was, by the writer of romance, turned to extravagance ;
and under the title of chivalry was offered as a model of
conduct, even in common affairs : the fortunes of nations
were directed by gallantry; and human life, on its greateſt
occaſions, became a ſcene of affectation and folly. War-
riors went forth to realize the legends they had ſtudied ;
princes and leaders of armies dedicated their moſt ſeriou...
exploits to a real or to a fancicd miſtreſs.
But whatever was the origin of notions, often fo lofty
and ſo ridiculous, we cannot doubt of their laſting effects
. The point of honour, the prevalence of
gallantry in our converſations, and on our theatres,
many
of the opinions which the vulgar apply even to the conduct
of war; their notion, that the leader of an army, being.
offered battle upon equal terms, is diſhonoured by declin-
ing it, are undoubtedly remains of this antiquated ſyſtem:
and chivalry, uniting with the genius of our policy, has
probably ſuggeſted thoſe peculiarities in the law of nations,
by which modern ſtates are diſtinguiſhed from the ancient.
And if our rule in meaſuring degrees of politeneſs and
civilization is to be taken from hence, or from the advance.
ment of commercial arts, we ſhall be found to have greatly
excelled any of the celebrated nations of antiquity. ,
on our manncrs.
'1
h
1
i
1
PART
+
1
312
Part V.
Of ſuppoſed National Eminence, and
...
PART FIFT H.
i
Of the Decline of Nations.
1
SE GT.
I.
1
Of ſuppoſed National Eminence, and of the Viciſitudes of
Human Affairs.
N into the red or Mankind: Sewa are even willing
to
O nation is ſo unfortunate as to think itſelf infe-
rior to the reſt of mankind: few are even willing to
put up with the claim to equality. The greater part having
choſen themſelves, as at once, the judges and the models of
what is excellent in their kind, are firſt in their own opinion,
and give to others conſideration or eminence, ſo far only as
they approach to their own condition. One nation is vain of
the perſonal character, or of the learning, of a few of its
members; another, of its policy, its wealth, its tradeſmen,
its gardens, and its buildings; and they who have nothing to
boaſt, are vain, becauſe they are ignorant. The Ruſſians, be-
fore the reign of Peter the Great, thought themſelves poffef-
fed
1
3
*
Sect. I.
of the Viciſſitudes of Human Affairs. 313
fed of every national honour, and held the Nemei, or
dumb nations, (the name which they belowed on their
weſtern neighbours of Europe), in a proportional degree
of contempt
The map of the world, in China, was a
ſquare plate, the greater part of which was occupied by
the provinces of this great empire, leaving on its ſkirts
a few obſcure corners, into which the wretched remain-
der of mankind were ſuppoſed to be driven. “ If you
" have not the uſe of our letters, nor the knowledge of
" ,
our books," ſaid the learned Chineſe to the European
miſſionary, “ what literature, or what ſcience, can you
66 have t?"
The term poliſhed, if we may judge from its etymo-
logy, originally referred to the ſtate of nations in reſpect
to their laws and government; and men civilized, were men
practiced in the duty of citizens. In its later applications,
it' refers no leſs to the proficiency of nations in the liberal
and mechanical arts, in literature, and in commerce; and
men civilized, are ſcholars, men of faſhion and traders.
But whatever may be its application, it appears, that if
there were a name ftill more reſpectable than this, every
nation, even the moſt barbarous, or the moſt corrupted,
would aſſume it; and beſtow its reverſe where they con-
ceived a diſlike, or apprehended a difference. The names
of alien, or foreigner, are ſeldom pronounced without
fome degree of intended reproach. That of barbarian, in
* Strahlenberg.
1
+ Gemelli Carceri.
Rr
uſc
.
314 Of ſuppoſed National Eminence, and Part V.
uſe with one arrogant people, and that of gentil, witli
another, only ſerved to diſtinguiſh the ſtranger, whoſe
language and pedigree differed from theirs.
.
Even where we pretend to found our opinions on rea-
fon, and to juſtify our preference of one nation to ano-
ther, we frequently beſtow our eſteem on circumſtances
which do not relate to national character, and which
have little tendency to promote the welfare of mankind.
Conqueſt, or great extent of territory, however peopled,
and great wealth, however diſtributed or employed, are:
titles upon which we indulge our own, and the vanity
of other nations, as we do that of private men on the
ſcore of their fortunes and honours. We even fome-
times contend, whoſe capital is the moſt overgrown; whoſe
king has the moſt abſolute power; and at whoſe court
the bread of the ſubject is conſumed in the moſt ſenſeleſs
riot. Theſe indeed are the notions of vulgar minds ; but
it is impoſſible to determine, how far the notions of vul-
gar minds may lead mankind.
THERE have certainly been very few examples of ſtates,
who have, by arts or policy, improved the original diſpoſi-
tions of human nature, or endeavoured, by wiſe and effec-
tual precautions, to prevent its corruption. Affection and
force of mind, which are the band and the ſtrength of com-
munities, were the inſpiration of God, and original attri-
butes in the nature of man. The wiſeſt policy of nations,
except in a very few inſtances, has tended, we may ſuſpect,
rather to maintain the peace of ſociety, and to repreſs the
external
1
1
Sect. I. of the Viciſſitudes of Human Affairs. 315
external effects of bad paſſions, than to ſtrengthen the dif-
poſition of the heart itſelf to juſtice and goodneſs. It
has tended, by introducing a variety of arts, to exerciſe the
ingenuity of men, and by engaging them in a variety of
purſuits, inquiries, and ſtudies, to inform, but frequently
to corrupt the mind. It has tended to furniſh matter of
diſtinction and vanity; and by incumbering the individual
with new ſubjects of perſonal care, to ſubſtitute the anxiety
he entertains for a ſeparate fortune, inſtead of the confi-
dence and the affection with which he ſhould unite with
his fellow-crcatures, for their joint preſervation.
1
WHETHER this fufpicion be juſt or no, we are come
to point at circumſtances tending to verify, or to diſprove
it: and if to underſtand the real felicity of nations be
of importance, it is certainly fo likewiſe, to know what
are thoſe weakneſſes, and thoſe vices, by which men not
only mar this felicity, but in one age forfeit all the exter-
nal advantages they had gained in a former.
4
The wealth, the aggrandizement and power of nations,
are commonly the effects of virtue; the loſs of theſe ad-
vantages, is often a conſequence of vice. Were we to ſup-
poſe men to have ſucceeded in the diſcovery and applica-
tion of every art by which ſtates are preſervéd, and go-
verned ; to have attained, by efforts of wiſdom and mag-
nanimity, the admired eſtabliſhments and advantages of
a civilized and flouriſhing people; the ſubſequent part of
Rr 2
their
1
316
Part V.
Of ſuppoſed National Eminence, and
their hiſtory, containing, according to vulgar apprehen-
fion, a full diſplay of thoſe fruits in maturity, of which
they had till then carried only the bloſſom, and the firſt
formation, ſhould, ſtill more than the former, merit our
attention, and excite our adıniration.
The event, however, has not correſponded to this ex-
pectation. The virtues of men have thone moſt during
their ſtruggles, not after the attainment of their ends.
Thoſe ends themſelves, though attained by virtue, are fre-
quently the cauſes of corruption and vice. Mankind, in
aſpiring to national felicity, have ſubſtituted arts which
increaſe their riches, inſtead of thoſe which improve their
nature. They have entertained admiration of themſelves,
under the titles of civilized and of poliſhed, where they
ſhould have been affected with ſhame, and even where
they have for a while acted on maxims tending to raiſe, to
invigorate, and to preſerve the national character,
they
have, ſooner or later, been diverted from their object, and
fallen a prey to misfortune, or to the neglects which prof-
perity itſelf had encouraged.
WAR, which furniſhes mankind with a principal oc-
cupation of their reſtleſs fpirit, ferves, by the variety of
its events, to diverſify their fortunes.
While it opens
to one tribe or ſociety, the way to eminence, and leads
to dominion, it brings another to ſubjection, and cloſes
the ſcene of their national efforts. The celebrated rival-
ſhip of Carthage and Rome was, in both parties, the
natural
1
+
ܪ
Sect. I. of the Viciſſitudes of Human Affairs. 317
natural exerciſe of an ambitious fpirit, impatient of
OPPO
fition, or even of equality. The conduct and the fortune
of leaders, held the balance for ſome time in ſuſpenſe;
but to whichever ſide it had inclined, a great nation was to
fall; a ſeat of empire and of policy, was to be removed
from its place; and it was then to be determined, whether
the Syriac or the Latin Should contain the erudition that
was, in future ages, to occupy the ſtudies of the learned..
States have been thus conquered from abroad, be-
fore they gave any ſigns of internal decay, even in the
midſt of proſperity, and in tlie period of their greateſt
ardour for national objects. Athens, in the height of
her ambition, and of her glory, received a fatal wound,
in ſtriving to extend her maritime power beyond the
Grecian ſeas. And nations of every deſcription, fòrmida-
ble by their rude ferocity; reſpected for their diſcipline
and military experience, when advancing, as well as
when declining, in their ſtrength, fell à prey, by turns,
to the ambition and arrogant ſpirit of the Romans. Such
examples may excite. and alarm the jealouſy and caution of
ftates; the preſence of ſimilar dangers may exerciſe the
talents of politicians and ſtateſmen ; but mere reverſes of
fortune are the common materials of hiſtory, and muſt
long ſince have ceaſed to create our ſurpriſe.
1
Did we find, that' nations advancing from ſmallbe-
ginnings, and arrived at the poſſeſſion of arts which lead
to dominion, became ſecure of their advantages, in pro-
portion :
N
318
Part V.
Of ſuppoſed National Eminence, and
1
1
portion as they were qualified to gain them ; that they pro-
ceeded in a courſe of uninterrupted felicity, till they were
broke by external calamities; and that they retained their
force, till a more fortunate or vigorous power aroſe to de-
preſs them; the ſubject in ſpeculation could not be attend.
ed with many difficulties, nor give riſe to many reflections.
But when we obſerve among nations a kind of ſpontaneous
return to obſcurity and weakneſs ; when, in ſpite of perpe-
tual admonitions of the danger they run, they ſuffer
themſelves to be ſubdued, in one period, by powers which
could not have entered into competition with them in a
former, and by forces which they had often baffled and
deſpiſed ; the ſubject becomes more curious, and its expla-
nation more difficult,
1
1
The fact itſelf is known in a variety of different ex-
amples. The empire of Aſia was, more than once, trans-
ferred from the greater to the inferior power. The ſtates
of Greece, once ſo warlike, felt a relaxation of their vi-
gour, and yielded the aſcendant they had diſputed with
the monarchs of the eaſt, to the forces of an obſcure
principality, become formidable in a few .years, and
raiſed to eminence under the conduct of a ſingle man.
The Roman empire, which ſtood alone for ages ; which
had brought every rival under ſubjection, and ſaw no
power from whom a competition could be feared, funk
at laſt before an artleſs and contemptible enemy. Aban-
doned to inroad, to pillage, and at laſt to conqueſt, on
her frontier, ſhe decayed in all her extremities, and ſhrunk
on
?
1
Sect. I. of the Viciſſitudes of Human Affairs.
319
on every ſide. Her territory was diſmembered, and whole
provinces gave way, like branches fallen down with
age,
not violently torn by ſuperior force. The ſpirit with which
Marius had baffled and repelled the attacks of barbarians
in a former age, the civil and military force with which
the conful and his legions had extended this empire, were
now no more. The Roman greatneſs, doomed to ſink as it
roſe, by ſlow degrees, was impaired in every encounter.
It was reduced to its original dimenſions, within the com-
paſs of a ſingle city; and depending for its preſervation
on the fortune of a fiege, it was extinguiſhed at a blow;
and the brand, which had filled the world with its flames,
funk like a taper in the ſocket.
Such appearances having given riſe to a general appre-
henſion, that the progreſs of ſocieties to what we call
the heights of national greatneſs, is not more natural,
than their return to weakneſs and obſcurity is neceſſary
and unavoidable. The images of youth, and of old age,
are applied to nations; and communities, like ſingle men,
are ſuppoſed to have a period of life, and a length of
thread, which is fpun by the fates in one part uniform
and ſtrong, in another weakened and Chattered by uſe
to be cut, when the deſtined æra is come, and to make
way for a renewal of the emblem in the caſe of thoſe
who ariſe in ſucceſſion. Carthage, being ſo much older
than Rome, had felt her decay, ſays Polybius, ſo much the
fooner: and the ſurvivor too, he foreſaw, carried in her:
boſom the ſeeds of mortality.
moment
.
THE
2
1
+
320 · Of ſuppoſed National Eminence, &c. Part V.
The image indeed is appoſite, and the hiſtory of man-
kind renders the application familiar, But it muſt be
obvious, that the caſe of nations, and that of individuals,
are very different. The human frame has a general courſe;
it has, in every individual, a frail contexture, and a limited
duration ; it is worn by exerciſe, and exhauſted by a repe-
tition of its functions: But in a fociety, whoſe conſtituent
members are renewed in every generation, where the race
ſeems to enjoy perpetual youth, and accumulating advan-
tages, we cannot, by any parity of reaſon, expect to find
imbecilities connected with mere age and length of days.
up-
The ſubject is not new, and reflections will croud
on every reader. The notions, in the mean time, which
we entertain, even in fpeculation, upon a fubject fo im-
portant, cannot be entirely fruitleſs to mankind; and how-
ever little the labours of the ſpeculative may influence thie
conduct of men, one of the moſt pardonable errors a writer
can commit, is to believe that he is about to do a great
deal of good. But leaving the care of effects to others, we
proceed to conſider the grounds of inconftancy among
mankind, the ſources of internal decay, and the ruinous
corruptions to whích nations are liable, in the ſuppoſed
condition of accompliſhed civility.
SECT
:
:
Sect. 2. Of the Temporary Efforts and Relaxations, &c. 321
1
1
S E C T.
II.
Of the Temporary Efforts and Relaxations of the National
Spirit.
FR
ROM what we have already obſerved on the general
characteriſtics of human nature, it has appeared,
that man is not made for rcpoſe. In him, every amiable
and reſpectable quality is an active power, and cvery ſub-
ject of commendation an effort. If his errors and his
crimes are the movements of an active being, his virtues
and his happineſs conſiſt likewiſe in the employment of
his mind; and all the luftre which he caſts around him,
to captivate or engage the attention of his fellow-creatures,
like the flame of a meteor, ſhines only while his motion
continues: the moments of reſt and of obſcurity are the
fame. · We know, that the taſks afligned him frcquently
may exceed, as well as come thort of his powers ; that he
may be agitated too much, as well as too little ; but can-
not aſcertain a preciſe medium between the fituations in
which he would be harraſſed, and thoſe in which he would
fall into languor. We know, that he may be employcil
on a grcat variety of ſubjects, which occupy diſferent paf-
fions; and that, in conſequence of habit, he becomes re-
conciled to very different ſcenes. All we can determine
Sf
in
322
Of the Temporary Efforts and Part V.
+
in general is, that whatever be the ſubjects with which he
is engaged, the frame of his nature requires him to be oc-
cupied, and his happineſs requires him to be juſt.
1
We are now to inquire, why nations ceaſe to be emi-
nent; and why focieties which have drawn the attention
of mankind by great examples of magnanimity, conduct,
and national ſucceſs, ſhould fink from the height of their
honours, and yield, in one age, the palm which they had
won in a former. Many reaſons will probably occur. One
may be taken from the fickleneſs and inconſtancy of man-
kind, who become tired of their purſuits and exertions,
even while the occaſions that gave riſe to thoſe purſuits,
in fome meaſure continue : Another, from the change of
ſituations, and the removal of objects which ſerved to ex-
cite their ſpirit.
1
1
The public ſafety, and the relative intereſts of ſtates;
political eſtabliſhments, the pretenſions of party, com-
merce, and arts, are ſubjects which engage the attention
of nations. The advantages gained in ſome of theſe
particulars, determine the degree of national proſperity.
The ardour and vigour with which they are at any one
time purſued, is the meaſure of a national ſpirit. When
thoſe objects ceaſe to animate, nations may be ſaid to lan-
guiſh ; when they are during any conſiderable time ne-
glected, ftates muſt decline, and their people degenerate.
IN
2
A
+
Sect. 2.
Relaxations of the National Spirit.
323
In the moſt forward, enterpriſing, inventive, and in-
duſtrious nations, this fpirit is fluctuating and they who
continue longeſt to gain advantages, or to preſerve them,
have periods of remiſſneſs, as well as of ardour. The
deſire of public ſafety, is, at all times, a powerful motive
of conduct; but it operates moſt, when combined with
occaſional paflions, when provocations inflame, when fuc-
ceſſes encourage, or mortifications exaſperate.
A whole people, like the individuals of whom they are
compoſed, act under the influence of temporary humours,
ſanguine hopes, or vehement animoſities. They are diſpoſ-
ed, at one time, to enter on national ſtruggles with vehe-
mence; at another, to drop them from mere laſſitude and
diſguſt. In their civil debates and contentions at home,
they are occaſionally ardent or remifs. Epidemical paſſions
ariſe or ſubfide, on trivial, as well as important, grounds.
Parties are ready, at one time, to take their names, and
the pretence of their oppoſitions, from mere caprice or
accident; at another time, they ſuffer the moſt ſerious oc-
caſions to paſs in ſilence. If a vein of literary genius be
caſually opened, or a new ſubject of diſquiſition be ſtarted,
real or pretended diſcoveries ſuddenly multiply, and every
converſation is inquiſitive and animated. If a new ſource
of wealth be found, or a proſpect of conqueſt be offered,
the imaginations of men are inflamed, and whole quarters
of the globe are ſuddenly engaged in ruinous or in ſucceſs-
ful adventures.
S[ 2
COULD
1
324
Part V.
Of the Temporary Efforts and
COULD we recall the ſpirit that was exerted, or enter
into the views that were entertained, by our anceſtors,
when they burſt like a deluge, from their ancient ſcats,
and poured into the Roman empire, we ſhould probably,
after their firſt fuccefles, at leaſt, find a ferment in the
minds of men, for which no attempt was too arduous, no
difficulties inſurmountable.
1
.
The ſubſequent ages of enterpriſe in Europe, were
thoſe in which the alarm of enthuſiaſın was rung, and
the followers of the croſs invaded the Eaſt, to plunder a
country, and to recover a ſepulchre ; thoſe in which
the people in different ſtates contended for freedom, and
aſſaulted the fabric of civil or religious uſurpation ; that
in which having found means to croſs the Atlantic, and
to double the cape of Good Hope, the inhabitants of one
half the world were let looſe on the other, and parties
from every quarter, wading in blood, and at the expence
of every crime, and of every danger, traverſed the earth in
ſcarch of gold.
Even the weak and the remiſs are rouſed to enterpriſe,
by the contagion of ſuch remarkable ages; and ſtates
which have not in their form the principles of a conti-
nued exertion, either favourable or adverſe to the wel-
fare of mankind, may have paroxyſms of ardour, and a
temporary appearance of national vigour. In the caſe of
ſuch nations, indeed, the returns of moderation arc but
a relapſe to obfcurity, and the preſumption of one age is
turned to dejection in that which ſucceeds.
BUT
1
A
Sect. 2: Relaxations of the National Spirit. 325
But in the caſe of ſtates that are fortunate in their
domeſtic policy, even madneſs itſelf may, in the reſult
of violent convulſions, ſubſide into wiſdom ; and a people
return to their ordinary mood, cured of their follies, and
wiſer by experience: or, with talents improved, in con-
ducting the very ſcenes which frenzy had opened, they .
may then appear beſt qualified to purſue with ſucceſs the
object of nations. Like the ancient republics, immediately
after ſome alarming fedition, or like the kingdom of Great
Britain, at the cloſe of its civil wars, they retain the ſpirit
of activity, which was recently awakened, and are equally.
vigorous in every purſuit, whether of policy, learning, or
From having appeared on the brink of ruin, they
paſs to the greateſt proſperity.
arts.
Men engage in purſuits with degrees of ardour not
proportioned to the importance of their object. When
they are ſtated in oppoſition, or joined in confederacy, they.
only wiſh for pretences to act. They forget, in the heat
of their animofities, the ſubject of their controverſy; or
they feck in their formal reaſonings concerning it, only
a diſguiſe for their paſſions. When the heart is inflamed,
no conſideration can rcprcſs its ardour ; when its fervour
ſubſides, no reaſoning can excitc, and no cloquencc awaken,
its former emotions.
|
The continuance of cmulation among ſtates, mut de-
pend on the degree of equality by which their forces are
balanced; or on the incentives by which either party, or
all,
1
326
Of the Temporary Efforts, and Part V.
mi
all, are urged to continue their ſtruggles. Long intermiſſi-
ons of war, fuffer, equally in every period of civil ſociety,
the military ſpirit to languiſh. The reduction of Athens by
Lyſander, ſtruck a fatal blow at the inſtitutions of Lycurgus;
and the quiet poffeffion of Italy, happily, perhaps, for man-
kind, had almoſt put an end to the military progreſs of the
Romans. After ſome years of repoſe, Hannibal found Italy
unprepared for his onſet, and the Romans in a diſpoſition
likely to drop, on the banks of the Po, that-martial ambi-
tion, which, being rouſed by the ſenſe of a new danger,
afterwards carried them to the Euphrates and the Rhine.
States even diſtinguiſhed for military proweſs, fome-
times lay down their arms from laſſitude, and are weary
of fruitleſs contentions : but if they maintain the ſtation
of independent communities, they will have frequent occa-
fions to recall, and to exert their vigour. Even under popu-
lar governments, men ſometimes drop the confideration
of their political rights, and appear at times remiſs or fu-
pine; but if they have reſerved the power to defend them-
ſelves, the intermiſſion of its exerciſe cannot be of long
duration. Political rights, when neglected, are always in-
vaded ; and alarms from this quarter muſt frequently come
to renew the attention of parties. The love of learning,
and of arts, may change its purſuits, or droop for a ſeaſon;
but while men are poffefſed of freedom, and while the ex-
erciſes of ingenuity are not ſuperſeded, the public may
proceed, at different times, with unequal fervour ; but its
progreſs
**
A
Sect. 20
Relaxatioris of the National Spirit. 327
progreſs is ſeldom altogether diſcontinued, or the advan-
tages gained in one age are ſeldom entirely loſt to the
following.
11
!
If we could find the cauſes of final corruption, we muſt
examine thoſe revolutions of ſtate that remove or with-
liold the objects of every ingenious ſtudy, or liberal purſuit;
that deprive the citizen of occaſions to act as the member
of a public ; that cruſh his fpirit; that debaſe his ſenti-
ments, and diſqualify his mind for affairs.
1
1
4
1
SECT
1
1
1
1
4
328
Part V.
Of Relaxations in the National Spirit
!
}
1
SECT T.
IH
1
1
Of Relaxations in the National Spirit incident to Poliſhed
Nations.
1
IM
0
MPROVING nations, in the courſe of their advance-
ment, have to ſtruggle with foreign enemies, to whom
they bear an extreme animoſity, and with whom, in many
conflicts, they contend for their exiſtence as a people. In
certain periods too, they feel in their domeſtic policy incon-
veniencies and grievances, which beget an eager impati-
ence; and they apprehend reformations and new eſtablish-
ments, from which they have ſanguine hopes of national
happineſs. In early ages, every art is imperfect, and fuf-
ceptible of many improvements. The firſt principles of
every ſcience are yet ſecrets to be diſcovered, and to be ſuc-
cellively publiſhed with applauſe and triumph.
We may fancy to ourſelves, that in ages of progreſs,
the human race, like fcouts gone abroad on the diſco-
very of fertile lands, having the world open before them,
are preſented at every ſtep with the appearance of no-
velty. They enter on every new ground with expectation
and joy: They cngage in cvery enterpriſe with the ar-
dcur of men, who believe they are going to arrive at
national
1
Sect. 3.
incident to Poliſfied Nations:
329
nárional felicity, and permanent glory; and forget paſt
diſappointments amidſt the hopes of future ſucceſs. From
mere ignorance, rude minds are intoxicated with every
paſſion ; and partial to their own condition, and to their
own purſuits, they think that every ſcene is inferior to
tliať in which they are placed. Roufed alike by ſucceſs,
and by misfortune, they are fanguine, ardent, and pre-
cipitant; and leave to the more knowing ages which fuc-
ceed them, monuments of imperfect ſkill, and of rude
execution in every art ; but they leave likewiſe the marks
of a vigorous and ardent fpirit, which their ſucceſſors are
not always qualified to ſuſtain, or to imitate.
11
4
This may be admitted, perhaps, as a fair deſcription of
proſperous focieties, at leaſt during certain periods of their
progreſs. The ſpirit with which they' advance may be un-
equal, in different ages, and may have its paroxyſms, and
intermiſſions, ariſing from the inconftancy of human paſ-
fions, and from the caſual appearance or removal of occa-
fions that excite them. But does this ſpirit, which for a
time continues to carry on the project of civil and commer-
find' a natural pauſe in the termination of its
own purſuits? May the buſineſs of civil ſociety be ac-
compliſhed, and may the occaſion of farther exertion be
removed? Do continued diſappointments reduce fanguine
hopes, and familiarity with objects blunt the edge of no-
velty? Does experience itſelf cool the ardour of the mind ?
May the ſociety be again compared to the individual ?
And may it be ſuſpected, although the vigour of a na-
Tť
tion,
cial arts,
;
4
1
1
4
330 Of Relaxations in the National Spirit Part V.
tion, like that of a natural body, does not waſte by a phy-
ſical decay, that yet it may ficken for want of exerciſe,
and die in the cloſe of its own exertions ? May ſocieties,
in the completion of all their deſigns, like men in years,
who diſregard the amuſements, and are inſenſible to the
paſſions, of youth, become cold and indifferent to objects
that uſed to animate in a ruder age? And may a poliſhed
community be compared to a man, who having executed
his plan, built his houſe, and made his ſettlement; who
having, in ſhort, exhauſted the charms of every ſubject,
and waited all his ardour, ſinks into languor and liſtleſs in-
difference? If ſo, we have found at leaſt another ſimile to
our purpoſe. But it is probable, that here too, the reſem-
blance is imperfect; and the inference that would follow,
like that of moſt arguments drawn from analogy, tends
rather to amuſe the fancy, than to give any real informa-
tion on the ſubject to which it refers.
The materials of human art are never entirely exhauſted,
and the applications of induſtry are never at an end. The
national ardour is not, at any particular time, proportioned
to the occaſion there is for activity ; nor the curioſity of
the learned to the extent of ſubject that remains to be
ftudied.
The ignorant and the artleſs, to whom objects of ſcience
are new, and whoſe manner of life is moſt ſimple, inſtead
of being more active, and more curious, are commonly
more quieſcent, and leſs inquiſitive, than thoſe who are
beſt
1
Sect. 3.
incident to Poliſhed Nations.
331
beſt furniſhed with knowledge and the conveniencies of
life. When we compare the particulars which occupy.
mankind, in the beginning, and in the advanced age of
commercial arts, theſe particulars will be found greatly
multiplied and enlarged in the laſt. The queſtions we have
put, however, deſerve to be anſwered ; and if, in the re-
ſult of commerce, we do not find the objects of human
purſuit removed, or greatly diminiſhed, we may find them
at leaſt changed; and in eſtimating the national ſpirit, we
may find a negligence in one part, but ill compenſated by
the growing attention which is paid to another.
It is true, in general, that in all our purſuits, there is
a termination of trouble, and a point of repoſe to which
we aſpire. We would remove this inconvenience, or gain
that advantage, that our labours may ceaſe. When I have
conquered Italy and Sicily, ſays Pyrrhus, I ſhall then enjoy
my repoſe. This termination is propoſed in our national
as well as in our perſonal exertions; and in ſpite of fre-
quent experience to the contrary, is conſidered at a diſtance
as the height of felicity. But nature has wiſely, in moſt
particulars, baffled our project ; and placed no where
within our reach this viſionary bleſſing of abſolute eaſe.
The attainment of one end is but the beginning of a new
purſuit ; and the diſcovery of one art is but a prolongation
of the thread by which we are conducted to further in-
quiries, and only hope to eſcape from the labyrinth.
..
wer
Tť
AMONG
A
+
332 Of Relaxations in the National Spirit Part V.
1
Among the occupations that may be enumerated, as
tending to exerciſe the invention, and to cultivate the ta-
lents of men, are the purſuits of accommodation and
wealth, including all the different contrivances whiclı
ſerve to increaſe manufactures, and to perfect the mecha-
nical arts. But it muſt be owned, that as the materials
of commerce may continue to be accumulated without
any determinate limit, ſo the arts which are applied to
improve them, may admit of perpetual refinements. No
meaſure of fortune, or degree of ſkill, is found to dimi-
niſh the ſuppoſed neceſſities of human life; refinement
and plenty foſter new deſires, while they furniſh the
means, or practiſe the methods, to gratify them.
In the reſult of commercial arts, inequalities of for-
tune are greatly increaſed, and the majority of
every
people are obliged by neceſſity, or at leaſt ſtrongly incited
by ambițion and avarice, to employ every talent they pof-
ſeſs. After a hiſtory of ſome thouſand years employed in
manufacture and commerce, the inhabitants of China are
ſtill the moſt laborious and induſtrious of any people on the
ſurface of the earth,
Some part of this obſervation may be extended to the
elegant and literary arts. They too have their materials,
which cannot be exhauſted, and proceed from deſires
which cannot be ſatiated. But the reſpect paid to lite-
rary merit is fluctuating, and matter of tranſient faſhion,
When learned productions, accumulate, the acquiſition
of
+
.
Sect. 3.
incident to Poliſhed Nations.
333
of knowledge occupies the time that might be beſtowed
on invention. The object of mere learning is attained
with moderate or inferior talents, and the growing liſt
of pretenders diminiſhes the luſtre of the few who are
eminent. When we only mean to learn what others have
taught, it is probable, that even our knowledge will be
leſs than that of our maſters. Great names continue to
be repeated with admiration, after we have ceaſed to ex-
amine the foundations of our praiſe; and new pretenders
are rejected, not becauſe they fall ſhort of their predecef-
fors, but becauſe they do not excel them; or. becauſe, in
reality, we have, without examination, taken for granted
the merit of the firſt, and cannot judge of either.
14
7
· After libraries are furniſhed, and every path of inge-
nuity is occupied, we are, in proportion to our admiration
of what is already done, prepoffefſed againſt farther at-
tempts. We become ſtudents and admirers, inſtead of
rivals; and fubftitute the knowledge of books, inſtead of
the inquiſitive or animated ſpirit in which they were
written.
The commercial and lucrative arts may continue to
proſper, but they gain an aſcendant at the expence of
other purſuits. The deſire of profit ſtifles the love of per-
fection. Intereſt cools the imagination, and hardens the
heart; and, recommending employments in proportion as
they are lucrative, and certain in their gains, it drives
ingenuity,
1
"
334 Of Relaxations in the Naticrial Spirit Part V.
l
ingenuity, and ambition itſelf, to the counter and the
workſhop.
But apart from theſe conſiderations, the ſeparation of
profeſſions, while it ſeems to promiſe improvement of ſkill,
and is actually the cauſe wliy the productions of every
art become more perfect as commerce advances ; yer in its
termination, and ultimate effects, ſerves, in ſome mea-
ſure, to break the bands of ſociety, to ſubſtitute mere
forms and rules of art in place of ingenuity, and to with-
draw individuals from the common ſcene of occupation,
on which the ſentiments of the heart, and the mind, are
moſt happily employed.
Under the diſtinction of callings, by which the mem-
bers of poliſhed ſociety are feparated from each other,
every individual is ſuppoſed to poſſeſs his ſpecies of talent,
or his peculiar ſkill, in which the others are confeſſedly
ignorant; and ſociety is made to conſiſt of parts, of which
none is animated with the ſpirit that ought to prevail in
the conduct of nations. “ We ſee in the ſame perſons,"
ſaid Pericles, “ an equal attention to private and to public
« affairs; and in men who have turned to ſeparate pro-
feſlions, a competent knowledge of what relates to the
« community ; for we alone conſider thoſe who are inatten-
" tive to the ſtate, as perfectly inſignificant.” This enco-
mium on the Athenians, was probably offered under an
apprehenſion, that the contrary was likely to be charged
by their enemies, or might foon take place. It happened
accordingly, that the buſineſs of ſtate, as well as of war,
---
4
came
1
Sect. 3.
incident to Poliſhed Nations.
335
came to be worſe adminiſtered at Athens, when theſe;
as well as other applications, became the objects of ſepa-
rate profeſſions ; and the hiſtory of this people abundantly
ſhewed, that men ceaſed to be citizens, even to be good
poets and orators, in proportion as they came to be dif-
tinguiſhed by the profeſſion of theſe, and other ſeparate
crafts.
ANIMALS leſs honoured than we, have fagacity enough
to procure their food, and to find the means of their
ſolitary pleaſures ; but it is reſerved for man to conſult,
to perſuade, to oppoſe, to kindle in the ſociety of his fel-
low-creatures, and to loſe the ſenſe of his perſonal intereſt
or ſafety, in the ardour of his friendſhips and his oppo-
ſitions.
When we are involved in any of the diviſions inta
which mankind are ſeparated, under the denominations.
of a country, a tribe, or an order of men any way af-
fected by common intereſts, and guided by communi-
cating paſſions, the mind recogniſes its natural ſtation ;
the ſentiments of the heart, and the talents of the under-
ſtanding, find their natural exerciſe. Wiſdom, vigilance;
fidelity, and fortitude, are the characters requiſite in ſuch
a ſcene, and the qualities which it tends to improve.
IN ſimple or barbarous ages, when nations are weak,
and beſet with enemies, the love of a country, of a par-
ty, or a. faction, are the ſame. The public is a knot.
of
14
:-
336
Part V.
Of Relaxations in the National Spirit
of friends, and its enemies are the reſt of mankind.
Death, or ſlavery, are the ordinary evils which they are
concerned to ward off; victory and dominion, the ob-
jects to which they aſpire. Under the ſenſe of what they
may ſuffer from foreign invaſions, it is one object, in
every proſperous fociety, to increaſe its force, and to ex-
tend its limits. In proportion as this object is gained,
ſecurity increaſes. They who poſſeſs the interior diſtricts,
remote from the frontier, are unuſed to alarms from
abroad. They who are placed on the extremities, remote
from the feats of government, are unuſed to hear of poli-
tical intereſts ; and the public becomes an object perhaps
too extenſive, for the conceptions of either. They enjoy
the protection of its laws, or of its armies ; and they
boaſt of its fplendor, and its power ; but the glowing fen-
timents of public affection, which, in ſmall ſtates, mingle
with the tenderneſs of the parent and the lover, of the
friend and the companion, merely by having their object
enlarged, loſe great part of their force.
The manners of rude nations require to be reformed.
Their foreign: quarrels, and domeſtic diſſenſions, are the
operations of extreme and fanguinary paſſions. A ſtate of
greater tranquillity hath many happy effects. But if na-'
tions purſue the plan of enlargement and pacification, till
their members can no longer apprehend the common
ties of ſociety, nor be engaged by affection in the cauſe of
their country, they muſt err on the oppoſite fide, and by
leaving
L
1
+
1
:
+
Sect. 3.
incident to Poliſhed Nat:01:5.
337
leaving too little to agitate the ſpirits of men, bring on
ages of languor, if not of decay.
The members of a community may, in this manner,
like the inhabitants of a conquered province, be made to
loſe the ſenſe of every connection, but that of kindred or
neighbourhood; and have no common 'affairs to tranſact,
but thoſe of trade : Connections, indeed, or tranſactions,
in which probity and friendſhip may ſtill take place ; but
in which the national ſpirit, whoſe ebbs and flows we are
now conſidering, cannot be exerted.
What we obſerve, however, on the tendency of en-
largement to looſen the bands of political union, can-
not be applied to nations who, being originally narrow,
never greatly extended their limits, nor to thoſe who,
in a rude ſtate, had already the extenſion of a great king-
dom.
oné
In territories of conſiderable extent, ſubject to
government, and poſſeſſed of freedom, the national union,
in rude ages, is extremely imperfect. Every diſtrict forms
a ſeparate party; and the deſcendents of different families
are oppoſed to each other, under the denomination of tribes
or of clans: they are ſeldom brought to act with a ſteady
concert; their feuds and animofities give more frequently
the appearance of ſo many nations at war, than of a
people united by connections of policy. They acquire
a ſpirit, however, in their private diviſions, and in the
midſt of a diſorder, otherwiſe hurtful, of which the
force,
Uu
.
1
Of Relaxations in the National Spirit Part V.
338
force, on many occaſions, redounds to the power of the
flats.
WHATEVER be the national extent, civil order, and
regular government, are advantages of the greateſt im-
portance; but it does not follow, that every arrangement
made to obtain theſe ends, and which may, in the ma-
king, exerciſe and cultivate the beſt qualities of men, is
therefore of a nature to produce permanent effects, and to
fecure the preſervation of that national ſpirit from which
it aroſe.
1
1]
We have reaſon to dread the political refinements of
ordinary men, when we conſider, that repoſe;. or inac-
tion itſelf, is in a great meaſure their object ; and that
they would frequently model their governments, not
merely to prevent injuſtice and error, but to prevent agi-
tation and buſtle; and by the barriers they raiſe againſt
the evil actions of men, would prevent them from acting
at all. Every diſpute of a free people, in the opinion.
of ſuch politicians, amounts to diſorder, and a breach
of the national peace. What heart-burnings? What delay
to affairs? What want of ſecrecy and diſpatch? What
defect of police? Men of ſuperior genius ſometimes ſeem
to imagine, that the vulgar have no title to act or to
think. A great prince is pleaſed to ridicule the precaution
by which judges in a free country are confined to the ſtrict
interpretation of law *.
* Memoirs of Brandenburg.
We
!
Sect. 3.
incident to poliſhed Nations.
339
1
66
$6
We eaſily learn to contract our opinions of what men
may, in conſiſtence with public order, be ſafely permit-
ted to do. The agitations of a republic, and the licence
of its members, ſtrike the ſubjects of monarchy with
averſion and diſguft. The freedom with which the Eu-
ropean is left to traverſe the ſtreets and the fields, would
appear to a Chineſe a fure prelude to confuſion and
anarchy. " Can men behold their ſuperior and not
66 tremble? Can they converſe without a preciſe and
56 written ceremonial ? What hopes of peace, if the
“ ſtreets are not barricaded at an hour? What wild dir-
order, if men are permitted in any thing to do what
they pleaſe!"
If the precautions which men thus take againſt each
other be neceſſary to repreſs their crimes, and do not
ariſe from a corrupt ambition, or from cruel jealouſy in
their rulers, the proceeding itſelf muſt be applauded,
as the beſt remedy of which the vices of men will ad-
mit. The viper muſt be held at a diſtance, and the ty-
ger chained.
But if a rigorous policy, applied to en-
flave, not to reſtrain from crimes, has an actual tendency
to corrupt the manners, and to extinguiſh the ſpirit of
nations: if its ſeverities be applied to terminate the agi-
tations of a free people, not to remedy their corruptions;
if forms be often applauded as ſalutary, becauſe they
tend merely to filence the voice of inankind, or be con-
demned as pernicious, becauſe they allow this voice to be
heard; we may expect that many of the boafted improve-
ments of civil ſociety, will be mere devices to lay the po-
U u 2
litical
1
1
1
340
Of Relaxations in the National Spirit Part V.
litical ſpirit at reſt, and will chain up the active virtues
more than the reflleſs diſorders of men,
--
IF to any people it be the avowed object of policy, in
all its internal refinements, to ſecure only the perſon and
the property of the ſubject, without any regard to his
political character, the conftitution indeed may be free,
but its members may likewiſe become unworthy of the
freedom they poſſeſs, and unfit to preſerve it. The effects
of ſuch a conſtitution may be to immerſe all orders of
men in their ſeparate purſuits of pleaſure, which they
may, on this ſuppoſition, enjoy with little diſturbance; or
of gain, which they may preferve without any attention
to the commonwealth,
If this be the end of political ſtruggles, the deſign,
when executed, in ſecuring to the individual his eſtate,
and the means of ſubſiſtence, inay put an end to the ex-
erciſe of thoſe very virtues that were required in con-
ducting its execution. A man who, in concert with his
fellow-ſubjects, contends with uſurpation in defence of his
eſtate or his perſon, may in that very ſtruggle have found
an exertion of great generoſity, and of a vigorous fpirit;
but he who, under political eſtabliſhments, ſuppoſed to be
fully confirmed, betakes himſelf, becauſe he is fafe, to
the mere enjoyment of fortune, las in fact turned to a
ſource of corruption the advantages which the virtues
of the other procured. Individuals, in certain ages,
des
rive their protection chiefly from the ſtrength of the
party to which they adhere; but in times of corruption,
they
2
A
1
1
Sect. 3.
incident to Poliſhed Nations.
34.1
they flatter themſelves, that they may continue to derive
from the public that ſafety which, in former ages, they
muſt have owed to their own vigilance and ſpirit, to the
warm attachment of their friends, and to the exerciſe of
every talent which could render them reſpected, feared,
or beloved. In one period, therefore, mere circumſtances
ſerve to excite the ſpirit, and to preſerve the manners of
men; in another, great wiſdom and zeal for the good of
mankind, on the part of their leaders, are required for the
ſame purpoſes.
1
Rome, it may be thought, did not die of a lethargy,
nor periſh by the remiſſion of her political ardours at
home. Her diſtemper appeared of a nature more vio-
lent and acute. Yet if the virtues of Cato and of Brutus
found an exerciſe in the dying hour of the republic, the
neutrality, and the cautious retirement of Atticus, found
its ſecurity in the ſame tempeſtuous ſeaſon; and the great
body of the people lay undiſturbed, below the current of
a ftorm, by which the ſuperior ranks of men were de-
ſtroyed. In the minds of the people, the ſenſe of a puh-
lic was defaced; and even the animoſity of faction had
ſubſided : they only could ſhare in the commotion, who
were the ſoldiers of a legion, or the partizans of a leader.
But this ſtate fell not into obfcurity for want of eminent
men. If at the time of which we ſpeak, we look only
for a few names diſtinguiſhed in the hiſtory of man-
kind, there is no period at which the liſt was more nu-
merous. But thoſe names became diſtinguiſhed in the con-
teſt for dominion, not in the exerciſe of cqual rights : the
people
1
342
Of Relaxations in the National Spirit Part V.
people was corrupted ; the empire of the known world
ſtood in need of a maſter.
REPUBLICAN governments, in general, are in hazard
of ruin from the aſcendant of particular factions, and
from the mutinous fpirit of a populace, who being cor-
rupted, are no longer fit to ſhare in the adminiſtration
of late. But under other eſtabliſhments, where liberty
may be more ſucceſsfully obtained if men are corrupted,
the national vigour declines from the abuſe of that very
ſecurity which is procured by the ſuppoſed perfection of
public order.
}
A diſtribution of power and office; an execution of
law, by which mutual incroachments and moleſtations
are brought to an end; by which the perſon and the
property are, without friends, without cabal, without
obligation, perfectly ſecured to individuals, does ho-
nour to the genius of a nation ; and could not have been
fully eſtabliſhed, without thoſe exertions of underſtand-
ing and integrity, thoſe trials of a reſolute and vigorous
ſpirit, which adorn the annals of a people, and leave to
future ages a ſubject of juſt admiration and applauſe.
But if we ſuppoſe that the end is attained, and that
men no longer act in the enjoyment of liberty, from
liberal ſentiments, or with a view to the preſervation of
public manners ; if individuals think themſelves ſecure
without any attention or effort of thcir own; this boaſt-
ed advantage may be found only to give them an op-
portunity of enjoying, at leiſure, the conveniencies and
neceflaries
1
/
Sect. 3
.
incident to Poliſhed Nations,
343
neceſſaries of life; or, in the language of Cato, teach
them to value their houſes, their villas, their ſtatues,
and their pictures, at a higher rate than they do the re-
public. They may be found to grow tired in ſecret of
a free conſtitution, of which they never ceaſe to boaſt in
their converſation, and which they always neglect in their
conduct.
1
11
The dangers to liberty are not the ſubject of our pre-
fent confideration ; but they can never be greater from
any cauſc than they are from the ſuppoſed remiffneſs of
a people, to whoſe perſonal vigour every conſtitution,
as it owed its eftabliſhment, ſo muſt continue to owe its
preſervation. Nor is this bleſſing ever leſs ſecure than
it is in the poffeffion of men who think that they en-
joy it in ſafety, and who therefore conſider the public
only as it preſents to their avaríce a number of lucrative
employments ; for the ſake of which they may ſacrifice.
thoſe very rights whichi render themſelves objects of ma--
nagement or of confideration.
4
From the tendency of theſe reflections, then, it ſhould
appear, that a national fpirit is frequently tranſient, not
on account of any incurable diſtemper in the nature of
mankind, but on account of their voluntary neglects and
corruptions. This ſpirit fubfifted ſolely, perhaps, in the
execution of a few projects, entered into for the acquiſi- -
tion of territory or wealth ; it comes, like a uſeleſs wea--
pon, to be laid aſide after its end is attained.-
ORDINARY
!
។
11
IT,
*
401
I
344
Of Relaxations in the National Spirit. Part V.
ORDINARY eſtabliſhments terminate in a relaxation of
vigour, and are ineffectual to the preſervation of ſtates;
becauſe they lead mankind to rely on their arts, inſtead of
their virtues, and to miſtake for an improvement of hu-
man nature, a mere acceſſion of accoinmodation, or of
riches * Inſtitutions that fortify the mind, inſpire courage,
and promote national felicity, can never tend to national
ruin.
4
.
Is it not poſſible, amidſt our admiration of arts, to find
ſome place for theſe? Let ſtateſmen, who are intruſted
with the government of nations, reply for themſelves. It
is their buſineſs to fhew, whether they climb into ſtations
of eminence, merely to diſplay a paſſion for intereſt, which
they had better indulge in obſcurity ; and whether they
have capacity to underſtand the happineſs of a people, the
conduct of whoſe affairs they are ſo willing to undertake.
* Adeo in quæ laboramus ſola crevimus Divitias Luxuriamque. Liv. lib. VII.
.
C. 25.
S E C T.
.
L
-111
s litering
t"
1
Sect. 40
incident to Polibed Nations.
345:
1
S E C T. iv.
1
The ſame fubje&t continued.
11
!
I.
ht
ME
+
TE
I.
1
hy
EN frequently, while they are engaged in what is
accoünted the moſt ſelfiſh of all purſuits, the im-
provement of fortune, then moſt neglect themſelves; and
while they reaſon for their country, forget the conſidera-
tions that moſt deſerve their attention. Numbers, riches,
and the other reſources of war, are highly important:
but nations conſiſt of men ; and a nation conſiſting of
degenerate and cowardly men, is weak; a nation conſiſting
of vigorous, public-ſpirited, and reſolute men, is ſtrong.
The reſources of war, where other advantages are equal,
may decide a 'conteft ;- but the reſources of war, in hands
that cannot employ them, are of no avail.
Virtue is a neceſſary conſtituent of national ſtrength:
capacity, and a vigorous underſtanding, are no leſs ne-
ceſſary to ſuſtain the fortune of ſtates. Both are improved
by diſcipline, and by the exerciſes in which men are
engaged. We deſpiſe, or we pity, the lot of mankind,
while they lived under uncertain eſtabliſhments, and were
obliged to ſuſtain in the ſame perſon, the character of the
ſenator, the ſtateſman, and the ſoldier. Commercial na-
tions diſcover, that any one of theſe characters is fufficient
in one perſon ; and that the ends of each, when disjoined,
4
(
.
XX
are
1
.
T
4
ht
ton,
346
tu
M
execute a part of his
Of Relaxations of the National Spirit Part V.
are more eaſily accomplished. The firſt, however, were
circumſtances under which nations advanced and pro-
ſpered; the fecond were thoſe in which the ſpirit relaxed,,
and the nation went to decay.
We may, with good reaſon, congratulate our ſpecies:
on their having eſcaped from a ſtate of barbarous diſorder
and violence, into a ſtate of domeſtic peace and regular
policy; when they have ſheathed the dagger, and diſarmed
the animofities of civil contention ; when the weapons
with which they contend are the reaſonings of the wiſe,
and the tongue of the eloquent. But we cannot, mean-
time, help to regret, that they ſhould ever proceed, in
ſearch of perfection, to place every branch of adminiſtra-
tion behind the counter, and come to employ, inſtead of.
the ſtateſman and warrior, the mere clerk and accountant..
By carrying this ſyſtem to its fieiglit, men are educated;
who could copy for Cæſar his military inſtructions, or even:
the different fcenes for which the leader himſelf muſt be
qualified, in the ſtate and in the field, in times of order,
or of tumult, in: iimes of diviſion or of unanimity.;.
none who could animate the council when deliberating,
on domeſtic affairs, or, when alarmed by: attacks from
abroad.
Tue policy of China is the moſt perfect model of“ an
arrangement, to which the ordinary refinements of go..
vernment:
is.
V
TH'Up',
MW
+1
ak
dy
N
HI
th'
21
An
It
Sect. 4.
incident to Poliſhed Nations.
347
vernment are aimed ; and the inhabitants of that empire
pofſefs, in the higheſt degree, thoſe arts on which vulgar
minds make the felicity and greatneſs of nations to de-
pend. The ſtate has acquired, in a meaſure unequalled
in the hiſtory of mankind, numbers of men, and the other
reſources of war. They have done what we are very app
to admire; they have brought national affairs to the level
of the meaneſt capacity; they have broke them into parts,
and thrown them into ſeparate departments ;. they have
clothed every proceeding with ſplendid ceremonies, and
majeſtical forms ; and where the reverence of forms can-
not repreſs diſorder, a rigorous and ſevere police, armed
with every fpecies of corporal puniſhment, is applied to
the purpoſe. The whip, and the cudgel, are held up to
all orders of men; they are at once employed, and they
are dreaded by every magiſtrate. A mandarine is whip-
ped, for having ordered a pickpocket to receive too few or
too many blows.
Every department of ſtate is made the object of a ſe-
parate profeſſion, and every candidate for office muſt
have paſſed through a regular education ; and, as in the
graduations of the univerſity, muſt have obtained by his
proficiency, or his ſtanding, the degree to which he aſpires.
The tribunals of ſtate, of war, and of the revenue, as well
as of literature, are conducted by graduates in their differ-
ent ſtudies: but while learning is the great road to prefer-
ment, it terminates in being able to read, and to write ;
and the great object of government conſiſts in raiſing, and
X X 2
in
1.
al
LI
11
mu
M
#
N
1
.
348
Of Relaxations in the Nationäl Spirit Part V.
.
in conſuming the fruits of the earth. With all theſe re-
fources, and this learned preparation, which is made to
turn theſe reföurces to uſe, the ſtate is in reality weak
has repeatedly given the example which we ſeek to ex-
plain ; and among the doctors of war or of policy, among
thie millions who are ſet apart for the military profeſſion,
can find none of its members, who are fit to ſtand forth:
in the dangers of their country, or to form a defence.
againſt the repeated inroads of an enemy reputed to be :
artleſs and mean..
* *
#
It is difficult to tell liow long the decay of ſtates might
be ſuſpended by the cultivation of arts on which their real
felicity and ſtrength depend ; by cultivating in the higher
ranks thoſe talents for: thie: council and the field, which
cannot, without great diſadvantage; be ſeparated; and in
the body of a people, that zeal for their country, and that:
military character, which enable them to take a ſhare in
defending its rights..
Times may come, when every proprietor muſt defend
his own poſſeſſions, and every free people maintain their
own independence. We may imagine, that againſt ſuch
an extremity, an army of hired troops is a fufficient precau-
tion; but their own: troops are the very enemy, againſt
which a people is ſometimes obliged to fight.. We may
flatter ourſelves, tliat extremities of this fort, in any parti-
cular, cafe, are remote; but we cannot, in reaſoning on:
the general fortunes of mankind, avoid putting the caſe,
and referring to the examples in which it has happened.
17
It
.
"!
A
1
"d
Sect. 4:
li
1
incident to Poliſhed Nations.
349
It has happened in every inſtarice where the poliſhed lave
fallen a prey to the rude, and where the pacific inhabitant
has been reduced.to fübjection by military force.
If the defence and government of a people be made
to depend on a few, who make the conduct of ſtate or of
war their profeſſion; whether theſe be foreigners or na-
tives ; whether they be called away of a ſudden, like the
Roman legion from Britain ; whether they turn againſt
their employers, like the army of Carthage, or be over-
powered and diſperſed by a ſtroke of fortune, the multi-
tude of a cowardly and undiſciplined people muſt, on
ſuch an emergence, receive a foreign or a domeſtic
enemy, as they would a plague or an earthquake, withi
hopeleſs amazement and terror, and by their numbers,
only ſwell the triumphs, and enrich the ſpoil. of a con--
queror.
STATESMEN and leaders of armies, accuſtomed to the
mere obſervance of forms, are diſconcerted by, a ſuſpen-
fion of cuſtomary rules ; and on flight grounds deſpair
of their country. They were qualified only to go the.
rounds of a particular track; and when forced from
their ſtations, are in reality unable to act with men.
They.only took part in formalities, of which they, un-
derſtood not the tendency; and together with the modes
of procedure, even the very ſtate itſelf, in their appre-
henſion, has ceaſed to exift. The numbers, poſſeſſions,
and reſources of a great pcople, :only ſerve, in their.
view;
1
TW
1
V
게
​5
350 Of Relaxations in the National Spirit Part V
:
view, só conſtitute a ſcene of hopeleſs confuſion and
terror.
In rude ages, under the appellations of a community, a
.
people, or a. nation, was underſtood a number of men ;
and the ſtate, while its members remained, was accounted
entire. The Scythians, while they filed before Darius;
mocked at his childiſh attempt ; Athens ſurvived the
devaſtations of Xerxes; and Rome, in its rude ſtate, thoſe
of the Gauls. With poliſhed and mercantile ſtates, the
caſe is ſometimes reverſed. The nation is a territory,
cultivated and improved by its owners; deſtroy the pof-
ſellion, even while the maſter remains, the ſtate is un-
done.
***
1
tt
7
THAT weakneſs and effeminacy of which poliſhed na-
tions are ſometimes accuſed, has its place probably in
the mind alone. The ſtrength of animals, and that of
man in particular, depends on his feeding, and the kind
of labour to which he is uſed. Wholeſome food, and
hard labour, the portion of many in every poliſhed and
commercial nation, ſecure to the public a number of
men endued with bodily ſtrength, and inured to hardſhip
and toil.
more
Even delicate living and good accommodation, are not
found to enervate the body. The armies of Europe have
been obliged to make the experiment; and the children
of opulent families, bred in effeminacy, or nurſed with
tender care, have been made to contend with the favage.
-
1
?
By
1
1
RE
I
4
1
W..
L
4..
42
1
1
4.
Sece. 4o
incident to Poliſhed Nations:
350
By imitating his arts, they have learned; like him, to
traverſe the foreſt; and, in every ſeaſon, to fubfift in the
defert. They have, perhaps, recovered a leffon, which it
has coft civilized nations many ages to unlearn, That the
fortune of a man is entire while he remains poffeffed of
himſelf..
?
It may be thought, however, that few of the cele-
brated nations of antiquity, whoſe fate has given rife
to ſo much reflection on the viciffitudes of human af-
fairs, had made any great progreſs in thoſe enervating
arts we have mentioned ; or made thoſe arrangements
from which the danger in queſtion could be fuppoſed: to
ariſe. The Greeks, in particular, at the time they re-
ceived the Macedonian yoke, had* certainly not carried
the commercial arts to ſo great a height as is common
with the moſt flouriſhing and proſperous nations of Europe.
They had ſtill retained the form of independent.republics ;
the people were generally admitted to a Mare, in the
go-
vernment; and not being able to hire armies, tlīey were
obliged, by neceſſity, to bear a part in the defence of their
country. By, their frequent wars and domeſtic commo-
tions, they were accuſtomed to Hanger, and-yyere familiar
with alarming ſituations: they were accordingly, ſtill ac-
counted the beſt ſoldiers and the beſt ſtateſmen of the
known world. The younger Cyrus promiſed himſelf the
empire of Aſia by means of their aid ; and after his fall,
a: body of ten thouſand, although bereft of their leaders,
baffled, in their retreat, all the military force of the Perſian
empire.
O
1
1
1
1
7
doo
352 Of Relaxations of the National Spirit
Part V.
1
empire. The victor of Aſia did not think himſelf prepared
for that conqueft, till he had formed an army from the
ſubdued republics of Greece.
It is, however, true, that in the age of Philip, the mili-
tary and political ſpirit of thoſe nations appears to have
been conſiderably impaired, and to have ſuffered, perhaps,
from the variety of intereſts and purſuits, as well as of
pleaſures, with which their members came to be occu-
pied: they even made a kind of ſeparation between the
civil and military character. Phocion, we are told by Plu-
tarch, having obſerved that the leading men of his time
followed different courſes, that ſome applied themſelves
to civil, others to military affairs, determined rather to
follow the examples of Themiſtocles, Ariſtides, and Peri-
cles, the leaders of a former age, who were equally pre-
pared for either.
We find in the orations of Demoſthenes, a perpetual re.
ference to this ſtate of manners. We find him exhorting the
Athenians, not only to declare war, but to arm themſelves
for the execution of their own military plans. We find that
there was an order of military men, who eaſily paſſed
from the ſervice of one ſtate to that of another; and who,
when they were neglected from home, turned away to en-
terpriſes on their own account. There were not, perhaps,
better warriors in any former age; but thoſe warriors were
not attached to any ſtate; and the ſettled inhabitants of every
city thought themſelves diſqualified for military ſervice.
The
:
:
.
1
Scct. 4.
incident to Poliſhed Nations.
353
The diſcipline of armies was perhaps improved ; but
the vigour of nations was gone to decay. When Philip,
or Alexander, defeated the Grecian armies, which were
chiefly compoſed of ſoldiers of fortune, they found an
eaſy conqueſt with the other inhabitants : and when
the latter, afterwards ſupported by thoſe ſoldiers, inva-
ded the Perſian empire, he ſeems to have left little mar-
tial ſpirit behind him; and by removing the military
men, to have taken precaution enough, in his abſence, to
ſecure this dominion over his mutinous and refractory
people.
1
1
.
+
Tue fubdiviſion of arts and profeſſions, in certain ex-
amples, tends to improve the practice of them, and to
promote their ends. By having ſeparated the arts of the
clothier and the tanner, we are the better ſupplied with
ſhoes and with cloth.
But to ſeparate thc arts - which
form the citizen and the ſtateſinan, the arts of policy
and war, is an attempt to diſmember the human cha-
racter, and to deſtroy thoſe very arts, we mean to improve.
By this ſeparation, we in effect deprive a free people of
what is neceſſary to their ſafety; or we prepare a defence
againſt invaſions from abroad, which gives a proſpect of
uſurpation, and threatens the eſtabliſhment of military
government at home.
We may be ſurpriſed to find the beginning of certain
military inſtructions at Rome, referred to a time no
earlier than that of the Cimbric war. It was then, we
are told by Valerius Maximus, that Roman ſoldiers
Y Y
TVCIC
354
Of Relaxations in the National Spirit Part V.
!
were made to learn from gladiators the uſe of a ſword:
and the antagoniſts of Pyrrhus and of Hannibal were,
by the account of this writer, fill in need of inſtruction
in the firſt rudiments of their trade. They had already,
by the order and choice of their incampments, impreſ-
ſed the Grecian invader with awe and reſpect; they had
already, not by their victories, but by their national vi-
gour and firmneſs, under repeated defeats, induced him
to fue for peace. But the haughty Roman, perhaps,
knew the advantage of order and of union, without ha-
ving been broke to the inferior arts of the me
mercenary
ſoldier ; and had the courage to face the enemies of his
country, without having practiſed the uſe of his weapon
under the fear of being whipped. He could ill be perſua-
ded, that a time might come, when refined and intelligent
nations would make the art of war to conſiſt in a few
technical forms; that citizens and ſoldiers might come to
be diſtinguiſhed as much as women and men ; that the
citizen would become poſſeſſed of a property which he
would not be able, or required, to defend ; that the ſoldier
would be appointed to keep for another what he would be
taught to deſire, and what he alone would be enabled to
ſeize and to keep for himſelf; that, in ſhort, one ſet of
men were to have an intereſt in the preſervation of civil
eſtabliſhments, without the power to defend them ; that
the other were to have this power, without either the in-
clination or the intereſt.
1
This people, however, by degrees came to put their
military force on the very footing to which this deſcrip-
tion
2
}
Sect. 4.
incident to Poliſhed Nations.
355
tion alludes. Marius made a capital change in the man-
ner of levying foldiers at Rome: He filled his legions
with the mean and the indigent, who depended on mi-
litary pay for ſubſiſtence; he created a force which reſted
on mere diſcipline alone, and the fkill of the gladiator ;
he taught his troops to employ their ſwords againſt the
conſtitution of their country, and ſet the example of a
practice which was foon adopted and improved by his
fucceffors.
The Romans only meant by their armies to incroach
on the freedom of other nations, while they preſerved
their own.
They forgot, that in aſſembling ſoldiers of
fortune, and in ſuffering any leader to be maſter of a
diſciplined army, they actually reſigned their political
rights, and ſuffered a maſter to ariſe for the ſtate. This
people, in ſhort, whoſe ruling paſſion was depredation and
conqueſt, periſhed by the recoil of an engine which they
themſelves had erected againſt mankind.
The boaſted refinements, then, of the poliſhed age,
are not diveſted of danger. They open a door, perhaps,
to diſaſter, as wide and acceſſible as any of thoſe they
have ſhut. If they build walls and ramparts, they ener-
vate the minds of thoſe who are placed to defend them;
if they form diſciplined armies, they reduce the military
fpirit of entire nations; and by placing the ſword where
they have given a diſtaſte to civil eſtabliſhments, they pre-
pare for mankind the government of force.
Y y 2
IT
1
356 Of Relaxations in the National Spirit, &c. Part V.
lin
It is happy for the nations of Europe, that the diſparity
between the ſoldier and the pacific citizen can never be ſo
great as it became among the Greeks and the Romans.
In the uſe of modern arms, the novice is made to learn,
and to practiſe with eaſe, all that the veteran knows; and
if to teach him were a matter of real difficulty, happy are
they who are not deterred by ſuch difficulties, and who can
diſcover the arts which tend to fortify and preſerve, not to
enervate and ruin their country,
.
SEGT,
Sect. 5
Of National Waſte.
3:57
:
SE CT T.
V.
Of National Waſte.
TH
HE ſtrength of nations conſiſts in the wealth, the
numbers, and the character, of their people. The
hiſtory of their progreſs from a ſtate of rudeneſs, is, for
the moſt part, a detail of the ſtruggles they have main-
tained, and of the arts they have practiſed, to ſtrengthen,
or. to ſecure themſelves. Their conqueſts, their popula-
tion, and their commerce, their civil and military arrange-
ments, their ſkill in the conſtruction of weapons, and in
the methods of attack and defence; the very diſtribution
of taſks, whether in private buſineſs or in public affairs,
either tend to beſtow, or. promiſe to employ with advan-
tage, the conſtituents.of a national force, and the reſources
of war.
1
If we ſuppoſe, that together with theſe advantages,
the military character of a people remains, or is impro--
ved, it muſt follow, that what is gained in civilization,
is a real increaſe of ſtrength; and that the ruin of nations
could never take its riſe from themſelves. Where ſtates
have ſtopped ſhort in their progreſs, or have actually gone to
decay,
-
1
+
358
Part V.
Of National-Waſte.
t
.
A
decay, we may ſuſpect, that however diſpoſed to advance,
tliey have found a limit, beyond which they could not
proceed; or from a remiſſion of the national ſpirit, and
a weakneſs of character, were unable to make the moſt
of their reſources, and natural advantages. On this ſup-
poſition, from being ſtationary, they may begin to relapſe,
and by a retrograde motion, in a ſucceſſion of ages, ar-
rive at a ſtate of greater weakneſs, than that which they
quitted in the beginning of their progreſs; and with the
appearance of better arts, and ſuperior conduct, expoſe
themſelves to become a prey to barbarians, whom, in the
attainment, or the height of their glory, they had eaſily
baffled or deſpiſed.
1
!
WHATEVER may be the natural wealth of a people,
or whatever may be the limits beyond which they can-
not improve on their ſtock, it is probable, that no na-
tion has ever reached thoſe limits, or has been able to
poſtpone its misfortunes, and the effects of miſconduct,
until its fund of materials, and the fertility of its foil, were
exhauſted, or the number of its people were greatly re-
duced. The fame errors in policy, and weakneſs of man-
ners, which prevent the proper uſe of reſources, likewiſe
check their increaſe or improvement.
The wealth of the ſtate confifts in the fortune of its
members. The actual revenue of the ſtate is that ſhare of
every private fortune, which the public has been accuf-
tomed to demand for national purpoſes. This revenue
cannot be always proportioned to what may be ſuppoſed
redundant
!
1
1
Sect. 5.
Of National Waſte.
359
redundant in the private eſtate, but to what is, in ſome
meaſure, thought ſo by the owner; and to what he may
be made to ſpare, without intrenching on his manner of
living, and without ſuſpending his projects of expence,
or of comnierce. It ſhould appear, therefore, that any
immoderate increaſe of private expence is a prelude to na-
tional weakneſs: government, even while each of its ſub-
jects conſumes a princely eſtate, may be ſtraitened in point
of revenue, and the paradox be explained by example,
That the public is poor while its members are rich.
.
We are frequently led into error by miſtaking money
for riches; we think that a people cannot be impoveriſhed
by a waſte of money which is ſpent among themſelves.
The fact is, that men are impoveriſhed, only in two ways;
either by having their gains ſuſpended, or by having
their fubftance conſumed ; and money expended at
Home; being circulated, and not conſumed, cannot, any
more than the exchange of a tally, or a counter among a
certain number of hands, tend to diminiſh the wealth
of the company among whom it is handed about. But
while money circulates at home, the neceflaries of life,
which are the real conſtituents of wealth, may Be idly
conſumed ; the induſtry which might be employed to
increaſe the ſtock of a people, may be ſuſpended, or turned
to abuſe.
.
1
1
GREAT armies, maintained either at home or abroad,
without any national object, are ſo many mouths unne-
ceſſarily opened to waſte the ſtores of the public, and fa
many
1
1
$
360
Part V.
Of National Wafle.
1
inany hands with-hold from the arts by which its pro-
fits are made. Unſucceſsful enterpriſes are ſo many ven-
lures thrown away, and loſſes ſuſtained, proportioned to
the capital employed in the ſervice. The Helvetii, in or-
der to invade the Roman province of Gaul, burnt their ha-
bitations, dropt their inſtruments of huſbandry, and con-
ſumed, in one year, the ſavings of many. The enterpriſe
failed of ſucceſs, and the nation was undone.
States have endeavoured, in ſome inſtances, by pawn-
ing their credit, inſtead of employing their capital, to dif-
guiſe the hazards they 'ran. They have found, in the
loans they raiſed, a caſual reſource, which encouraged
their enterpriſes. They have ſeemed, by their manner of
erecting transferable funds, to leave the capital for pur-
poſes of trade, in the hands of the ſubject, while it is
actually expended by the government. They have by
theſe means, proceeded to the execution of great national
projects, without fufpending private induſtry, and have
left future ages to anſwer, in part, for debts contracted
with a view to future emolument. So far the expedient
is plauſible, and appears to be juſt. The growing burden
too, is thus gradually laid ; and if a nation be to fink
in ſome future age, every miniſter hopes it may ſtill
keep afloat in his own. But the meaſure, for this very
reaſon, is, with all its advantages, extremely dangerous,
in the hands of a precipitant and ambitious adminiſtra-
tion, regarding only the preſent occaſion, and imagining a
ſtate to be inexhauſtible, while a capital can be borrowed,
and the intereſt be paid.
WE
Sect. 5
Of National Waſte.
361
1
We are told of a nation, who, during a certain period,
rivalled the glories of the ancient world, threw off the
dominion of a maſter armed againſt them with the powers
of a great kingdom, broke the yoke with which they
had been oppreſſed, and almoſt within the courſe of a
century, raiſed, by their induſtry and national vigour, a
new and formidable power, which ſtruck the former po-
tentates of Europe with awe and ſuſpenſe, and turned the
badges of poverty with which they ſet out, into the enſigns
of war and dominion. This end was attained by the
great efforts of a ſpirit awaked by oppreſſion, by a fuc-
ceſsful purſuit of national wealth, and by a rapid antici-
pation of future revenue. But this illuſtrious ſtate is fup-
poſed, not only in the language of a former ſection, to
have preoccupied the buſineſs; they have ſequeftered the
inheritance of many ages to come.
Great national expence, however, does not imply the
neceſſity of any national ſuffering. While revenue is ap-
plied with ſucceſs, to obtain ſome valuable end; the profits
of every adventure, being more than ſufficient to repay
its coſts, the public ſhould gain, and its reſources ſhould
continue to multiply. But an expence, whether ſuſtained
at home or abroad, whether a waſte of the preſent, or an
anticipation of future, revenue, if it bring no proper re-
jurn, is to be reckoned among the cauſes of national ruin.
barnet
Z z
PART
1
362
Part VI.
Of Corruption in general.
;
1
PAR T SI X T H.
Of Corruption and Political Slavery.
S E
CT.
I.
.
Of Corruption in general.
!
I
F the fortune of nations, and their tendency to aggran-
diſement, or to ruin, were to be eſtimated by merely
balancing, on the principles of the laſt ſection, articles of
profit and loſs, every argument in politics would reſt on a
compariſon of national expence with national gain ; on a
compariſon of the numbers who conſume, with thoſe who
produce or amaſs the neceſſaries of life. The columns of
the induſtrious, and the idle, would include all orders of
men; and the ſtate itſelf, being allowed as many magi-
ſtrates, politicians, and warriors, as were barely ſufficient
for
--
--
1
,
}
A
Sect. 1. Of Corruption in general
363
for its defence and its government, ſhould place, on the
ſide of its loſs, every name that is fupernumerary on the
civil or the military liſt; all thoſe orders of men, who, by
the poſſeſſion of fortune, ſubſiſt on the gains of others, and
by the nicery of their choice, require a great expence of
time and of labour, to ſupply their conſumption ; all thoſe
who are idly employed in the train of perſons of rank;
all thoſe who are engaged in the profeſſions of law, phyſic,
or divinity, together with all the Icarned, who do not, by
their ſtudies, promote or improve the practice of ſome
lucrative trade. The value of every perſon, in ſhort, ſhould
be computed from his labour; and that of labour itſelf,
from its tendency to procure and amaſs the means of ſub-
ſiſtence. The arts employed on mere ſuperfluities ſhould
be prohibited, except when their produce could be ex-
changed with foreign nations, for commodities that might
be employed to maintain uſeful men for the public.
These appear to be the rules by which a miſer would
examine the ſtate of his own affairs, or thoſe of his coun-
try ; but ſchemes of perfect corruption are at leaſt as im-
practicable as. ſchemes of perfect virtue.
perfect virtue. Men are not
univerſally miſers; they will not be ſatisfied with the plea-
ſure of hoarding ; they muſt be ſuffered 10 enjoy their
wealth, in order that they may take the trouble of becom-
ing rich. Property, in the common courſe of human af-
fairs, is unequally divided : we are therefore obliged to
ſuffer the wealthy to ſquander, that the poor may ſubfift;
we are obliged to tolerate certain orders of men, who are
Z z 2
above
1
+
1
-
1
364
Of Corruption in general. Part VI.
+
1
above the neceſſity of labour, in order that, in their condi-
tion, there may be an object of ambition, and a rank to
which the buſy aſpire. We are not only obliged to admit
numbers, who, in ſtrict economy, may be reckoned ſuper-
fluous, on the civil, the military, and the political lift ;
but becauſe we are men, and prefer the occupation, im-
provement, and felicity of our nature, to its mere exiſtence,
we muſt even wiſh, that as many members as poſſible, of
every community, may be admitted to a ſhare of its de-
fence and its government.
Men, in fact, while they purſue in ſociety different
objects, or ſeparate views, procure a wide diſtribution of
power, and by a ſpecies of chance, arrive at a poſture for
civil engagements, more favourable to human nature than
what human wiſdom could ever calmly deviſe.
If the ſtrength of a nation, in the mean time, conſiſts
in the men on whom it may rely, and who are fortu-
nately or wiſely combined for its preſervation, it follows,
that manners are as important as either numbers or
wealth ; and that corruption is to be accounted a principal
cauſe of national declenſion and ruin.
Whoever perceives what are the qualities of man
in his excellence, may eaſily, by that ſtandard, diſtin-
guifh his defects or corruptions. If an intelligent, a
courageous, and an affectionate mind, conſtitutes the
perfection of his nature, remarkable failings in any of
thoſe
1
Sect. I.
Of Corruption in general.
365
thoſe particulars, muſt proportionally fink or debaſe his
character.
қ
We have obſerved, that it is the happineſs of the indi-
vidual to make a right choice of his conduct; that this
choice will lead him to loſe in ſociety the ſenſe of a per-
ſonal intereſt; and, in the confideration of what is due
to the whole, to ſtifle thoſe anxieties which relate to him-
ſelf as a part.
The natural diſpoſition of man to humanity, and the
warmth of his temper, may raiſe his character to this
fortunate pitch. His elevation, in a great meaſure; de-
pends on the form of his ſociety ; but he can, without
incurring the charge of corruption, accommodate him-
ſelf to great variations in the conſtitutions of govern-
ment. The ſame integrity, and vigorous ſpirit, which, in
democratical ſtates, renders him tenacious of his equa-
lity, may, under ariſtocracy or monarchy, lead him to
maintain the ſubordinations eſtabliſhed. He may enter-
tain, towards the different ranks of men with whom
he is yoked in the ſtate, maxims of reſpect and of can-
dour: he may, in the choice of his actions, follow a
principle of juſtice, and of honour, which the confide-
rations of ſafety, preferment, or profit, cannot efface.
From our complaints of national depravity, it ſhould,
notwithſtanding, appear, that whole bodies of men are
ſometimes infected with an epidemical weakneſs of the:
head, or corruption of heart, by which they become
unfit
1
366
Of Corruption in general. Part VI.
!
.
unfit for the ſtations they occupy, and threaten the ſtates
they compoſe, however flouriſhing, with a proſpect of
decay.and of ruin.
A change of national manners for the worſe, may ariſe
from a diſcontinuance of the ſcenes in which the ta-
lents of men were happily cultivated, and brought into
exerciſe ; or from a change in the prevailing opinions
relating to the conſtituents of honour or of happineſs.
When mere riches, or court-favour, are ſuppoſed to con-
ſtitute rank; the mind is miſled from the conſideration
of qualities on which it ought to rely. Magnanimity, ;
courage, and the love of mankind, are ſacrificed to ava-
rice and vanity, or ſuppreſſed under a ſenſe of depen
dence. The individual conſiders his community ſo far
only as it can be rendered ſubſervient to his perſonal ad-
vancement or profit: he ſtates himſelf in competition with
his fellow-creatures; and, urged by the paſſions of emu-
lation, of fear and jealouſy, of envy and nialice, he fol-
lows the maxims of an animal deſtined to preſerve his fe-
parate exiſtence, and to indulge his caprice or his appetite,
at the expence of his fpecies.
On this corrupt foundation, men become either ra-
pacious, deceitful, and violent, ready to treſpaſs on the
rights of others; or ſervile, mercenary, and baſe, pre-
pared to relinquiſh their own. Talents, capacity, and
force of mind, poſſeſſed by a perſon of the firſt deſcrip-
tion, ſerve to plunge him the deeper in mifery, and to
Tharpen the agony of cruel paſſions; which lead him to
wrcak
4
A
4
1
}
66
.
Sect. 1.
Of Corruption in general.
367
wreak on his fellow-creatures the torments that prey on
himſelf. To a perſon of the ſecond, imagination, and
reaſon itſelf, only ſerve to point out falſe objects of fear,
or deſire, and to multiply the ſubjects of diſappointment,
and of momentary joy. In either caſe, and whether we
ſuppoſe that corrupt men are urged by covetouſneſs, or
betrayed by fear, and without ſpecifying the crimes which
from either diſpoſition they are prepared to commit, we
may ſafely affirm, with Socrates, “ That every maſter
ſhould pray lie may not meet with ſuch a ſlave; and
every ſuch perſon, being unfit for liberty, ſhould implore
6 that he may meet with a merciful maſter."
MAN, under this meaſure of corruption, although he
be bought for a ſlave by thoſe who know how to
turn his faculties and his labour to profit ; and although,
when kept under proper reſtraints, his neighbourhood
may be convenient or uſeful; yet is certainly unfit to
act on the footing of a liberal combination or concert
with his fellow-creatures : his mind is not addicted to
friendſhip or confidence'; he is not willing to act for the
preſervation of others, nor deſerves that any other ſhould
hazard his own ſafety for his.
The actual character of mankind, mean-time, in the
worſt, as well as the beſt condition; is undoubtedly mix-
cd: and nations of the beſt deſcription are greatly ob-
liged for their preſervation, not only to the good difpo-
ſition of their members, but likewiſe to thoſe political
inſtitutions,
may
'
1
1
368
Part VI.
Of Corruption in general.
11
inſtitutions, by which the violent are reſtrained from the
commiſſion of crimes, and the cowardly, or the ſelfiſh,
are made to contribute their part to the public defence
or proſperity. By means of ſuch inſtitutions, and the
wiſe precautions of government, nations are enabled to
ſubſiſt, and even to proſper, under very different degrees
of corruption, or of public integrity.
So long as the majority of a people is ſuppoſed to act
on maxims of probity, the example of the good, and
even the caution of the bad, give a general appearance of
integrity, and of innocence. Where men are to one
another objects of affection and of confidence, where they
are generally diſpoſed not to offend, government may be
remiſs; and every perſon may be treated as innocent,
till he is found to be guilty. As the ſubject in this caſe
does not hear of the crimes, ſo he need not be told of
the puniſhments inflicted on perſons of a different cha-
racter. But where the manners of a people are conſider-
ably changed for the worſe, every ſubject muſt ſtand
on his guard, and government itſelf muſt act on ſuitable
maxims of fear and diſtruſt. The individual, no longer
fit to be indulged in his pretenſions to perſonal conſi-
deration, independence, or freedom, each of which he
would turn to abuſe, muſt be taught, by external force,
and from motives of fcar, to counterfeit thoſe effects of
innocence, and of duty, to which he is not diſpoſed: le
muſt be referred to the whip, or the gibbet, for argu-
ments in ſupport of a caution, which the ſtate now re-
quires him to aſſume, on a ſuppoſition that he is infen-
fible
T
1
A
1
1
1
Sect. I. Of Corruption in general.
369
fible to the motives which recommend the practice of
virtue.
The rules of deſpotiſm are made for the government
of corrupted men. They were indeed followed on ſomo
remarkable occaſions, even under the Roman common-
wealth ; and the bloody axe, to terrify the citizen from
his crimes, and to repel the caſual and temporary irrup-
tions of vice, was repeatedly committed to the arbitrary
will of the dictator. They were finally eſtablished on the
ruins of thé republic itſelf, when either the people be.
came too corrupted for freedom, or when the magiſtrate
became too corrupted to reſign his dictatorial power. This
fpecies of government comes naturally in the termination
of a continued and growing corruption ; but has no doubt,
in ſome inſtances, come too foon, and has ſacrificed re-
mains of virtue, that deſerved a better fate, to the jealouſy
of tyrants, who were in haſte to augment their power.
This method of government cannot, in ſuch caſes, fail to
introduce that meaſure of corruption, againſt whoſe ex-
ternal effects it is deſired as a remedy. When fear is
ſuggeſted as the only motive to duty, every heart becomes
rapacious or baſe. And this medicine, if applied to a
healthy body, is ſure to create the diſtemper, which in
other caſes it is deſtined to cure.
This is the manner of government into which the
covetous and the arrogant, to ſatiate their unhappy de-
fires, would hurry their fellow-creatures: it is a man-
ner of government to which the timorous and the fer-
vile
1.
11
Ааа.
-
370
Of Corruption in general,
. Part VI.
vile ſubmit at diſcretion ; and: when theſe characters of
the rapacious and the timid divide mankind, even the
virtues of Antoninus or Trajan, can do no more than
apply with candour. and withi vigour, the whip and the
ſword; andi endeavour, by the hopes of reward, or the
fear of puniſhment, to find a ſpeedy and a temporary cure
for the crimes, or the imbecilities of men.
ther ſtates may be more or leſs. corrupted: this has
corruption for its baſis. Here juſtice may ſometimes di-
rect, the arm of the deſpotical ſovereign; but the name
of juſtice is moſt commonly employed to ſignify the in-
tereſt, or the caprice, of a reigning power. Human fo-
ciety, ſuſceptible of ſuch a variety of forms, here finds
the ſimpleſt of all. The toils and poſſeſſions of many
are deſtined to afſwage the paſſions of: one or a few. ;
and the only parties that remain among mankind, are
the oppreſſor who demands, and the oppreffed who dare
not refuſe.
NATIONS, while they were intitled to a milder fate,
as in the caſe of the Greeks, repeatedly conquered, have
been reduced to this condition by military force. They
have reached it too in the maturity of their own depra-
vations; when, like tlie Romans, returned from the con-
queſt, and loaded with tlie fpoils, of the world,
they
gave looſe to faction, and to crimes too bold and too
frequent for the correction of ordinary government; and
wlien the fword of juſtice, dropping with blood, and
perpetually required to ſuppreſs accumulating diſorders
on
ܪ
!
.
?
Sect. I.
Of Corruption in general.
371
on every ſide, could no longer await the delays and pre-
cautions of an adminiſtration fettered by laws *
commerce.
It is, however, well known from the hiſtory of man-
kind, that corruption of this, or of any other degree, is
not peculiar to nations in their decline, or in the reſult
of ſignal proſperity, and great advances in the arts of
The bands of ſociety, indeed, in ſmall and
infant eſtabliſhments, are generally ſtrong ; and their
ſubjects, either by an ardent devotion to their own tribe,
or a vehement animoſity againſt enemies, and by a vigo:
rous courage founded on both, are well qualified to urge,
or to ſuſtain, the fortune of a growing community. But
the favage, and the barbarian, have given, notwithſtand-
ing, in the caſe of entire nations, fome examples of a
weak and timorous character t. They have, in more
inſtances, fallen into that ſpecies of corruption which we
have already deſcribed in treating of barbarous nations ;
they have made rapine their trade, not merely as a ſpecies
of warfare, or with a view to enrich their community, but
to poſſeſs, in property, what they learned to prefer even
to the ties of affection or of blood.
1
In the loweſt ſtate of commercial arts, the paſſions
for wealth, and for dominion, have exhibited ſcenes of
oppreſſion, or ſervility, which the moſt finiſhed corrup-
* Saluft. Bell. Catalinarium.
it The barbarous nations of Siberia, in general, are ſervile and timid.
А а а 2
tion
3.72
Of Corruption in general: Part VI.
tion of the arrogant, the cowardly, and the mercenary,,
founded on the deſire of procuring, or the fear of loſing,
a fortune, could not exceed. In ſuch caſes, the vices of
men, unreſtrained by forms, and unawed by police, are
ſuffered to riot at large, and to produce their entire ef-
fects. Parties accordingly unite, or ſeparate, on the max-
ims of a gang of robbers ;, they ſacrifice to intereſt the
tendereſt affections of human nature. The parent ſupplies
the market for ſlaves, even by the ſale of his own children;
the cottage ceaſes to be a ſanctuary for the weak and the
defenceleſs ſtranger; and rites of lioſpitality, often ſo fa-
cred among nations in their primitive ftate, come to be
violated, like every other tie of humanity,, without fear
or remorſe:*
1
NATIONS, which, in later periods of their hiſtory be...
came eminent for civil wiſdom and juſtice, had, per-..
haps, in a former age, paroxyſms. of lawleſs diſorder,
to which this deſcription miglat in part be applied. The
very policy by which they arrived at tlicir degree of na-
tional felicity, was deviſed as a remedy for outrageous
abuſe. The eſtabliſhment of order was dated from the
commiſſion of rapes and murders ;. indignation, and pri-
vate revenge, were the principles on which nations pro-
ceeded to the expulſion of tyrants, to the emancipation:
of mankind, and the full explanation of their political
rights.
0
* Chardin's travels through Mingrelia into Perſia.
Defects
1
1
1
1
1
Sect. I.
Of Corruption in general.
373
Defects of government, and of law, may be in fome
caſes conſidered as a ſymptom of innocence and of virtue.
But where power is already eſtabliſhed, where the ſtrong
are unwilling to ſuffer reſtraint, or the weak unable to
find a protection, the defects of law are marks of the moſt
perfect corruption.
+
AMONG rude nations, government is often defective;
both becauſe men are not yet acquainted. with all the
evils for which poliſhed nations have endeavoured to
find a redreſs ; and becauſe, even where evils of the
moſt flagrant nature have long amicted the peace of fo-
ciety, they have not yet been able to apply the cure.
In the progreſs of civilization, new diſtempers break
forth, and new remedies are applied : but the remedy is
not always applied the moment the diſtemper appears ;
and laws, though ſuggeſted by the commiſſion of crimes,
are not the ſymptom of a recent corruption, but- of a dem
fire to find a remedy that may cure, perhaps, fome. inve-
terate evil which has long afflicted the ſtate.
THERE are corruptions, however, under which men:
fill poſſeſs the vigour and the reſolution to correct them.
ſelves.. Such are the violence and the outrage which ac-
company the colliſion of fierce and daring ſpirits, occupied.
in the ſtruggles which ſometimes precede the dawn of
civil and commercial improvements. In ſuch caſes,, men
have frequently diſcovered a remedy for evils, of which
their own miſguided impetuoſity, and ſuperior force of
6
mind,
?
+
I
Part VI.
137
.
Of Corruption in general
mind, were the principal cauſes. But if to a depraved dif-
poſition, we ſuppoſe to be joined a weakneſs of ſpirit; if
to an adiniration, and deſire of riches, be joined an aver-
ſion to danger or buſineſs ; if thoſe orders of men whoſe
valour is required by the public, ceaſe to be brave; if the
members of ſociety, in general, have not thoſe perſonal
qualities which are required to fill the ſtations of equality,
or of honour, to which they are invited by the forms of
the ſtate; they muſt ſink to a depth from which their im-
becility, even more than their depraved inclinations, may
prevent their riſe.
!
Sez. 2
Of Luxury
375
.
S E C T.
II.
Of Luxury.
E are far from being agreed on the application
of the term luxury, or on that degree of its mean-
ing which is conſiſtent with national proſperity, or with
the moral rectitude of our nature. It is ſometimes em-
ployed to ſignify a manner of life which we think ne-
ceſſary to civilization, and even to happineſs. It is, in our
panegyric of poliſhed ages, the parent of arts, the fup-
port of commerce, and the miniſter of national greatneſs,
and of opulence. It is; in our cenſure of degenerate man-
ners, the ſource of corruption, and the preſage of national
declenſion and ruin. It is admired, and it is blamed ;
it is treated as ornamental and uſeful ; and it is proſcribed
as a vice.
1
With all this diverſity in our judgments, we are generally
uniform in employing the term to fignify that complicated
apparatus which mankind deviſe for the eaſe and conveni-
ence of life. Their buildings, furniture, equipage, cloath-
ing, train of domeſtics, refinement of the table, and, in.
general, all that aſſemblage which is rather intended to
pleaſe the fancy, than to obviate real wants, and which
is rather ornamental than uſeful.
TVHEN
}
+
376
Part VI.
Of Luxury.
When we are diſpoſed, therefore, under the appel-
lation of luxury, to rank the enjoyment of theſe things
among the vices, we either tacitly refer to the habits
of ſenſuality, debauchery, prodigality, vanity, and arro-
gance, with which the poſſeſſion of high fortune is ſome-
times attended ; or we apprehend a certain meaſure of
what is neceſſary to human life, beyond which all en-
joyments are ſuppoſed to be exceſſive and vicious. When,
on the contrary, luxury is made an article of national
luftre and felicity, we only think of it as an innocent
conſequence of the unequal diſtribution of wealth, and
as a method by which different ranks are rendered mu-
tually dependent, and mutually uſeful.
The poor are
made to practiſe arts, and the rich to reward them. The
public itſelf is made a gainer by what ſeems to waſte its
ſtock, and it receives a perpetual increaſe of wealth,
from the influence of thoſe growing appetites, and deli-
cate taſtes, which ſeem to menace conſumption and ruin.
It is certain, that we muſt either, together with the com-
mercial arts, ſuffer their fruits to be enjoyed, and even,
in
ſome meaſure, admired; or, like the Spartans, prohibit the
art itſelf, while we are afraid of its conſequences, or while we
think that the conveniencies it brings exceed what. nature
requires. But we may propoſe to ſtop the advancement of
arts at any ſtage of their progreſs, and ſtill incur the cenſure
of luxury from thoſe who have not advanced ſo far. The
houſe-
I
.
1
Sect. 2.
Of Luxury.
377
houſe-builder and the carpenter at Sparta were limited
to the uſe of the axe and the faw ; but a Spartan cottage
might have paſſed for a palace in Thrace: and if the dif-
pute were to turn on the knowledge of what is phyſically
neceſſary to the preſervation of human life, as the ſtand-
ard of what is morally lawful, the faculties of phyſic, as
well as of morality, would probably divide on the ſubject,
and leave every individual, as at preſent, to find ſome rule
for himſelf. The caſuiſt, for the moſt part, conſiders the
practice of his own age and condition, as a ſtandard for
mankind. If in one age or condition, he condemn the uſe
of a coach, in another he would have no leſs cenſured
the wearing of ſhoes; and the very perſon who exclaims
againſt the firſt, would probably not have ſpared the ſe-
cond, if it had not been already familiar in ages before
his own. A cenſor born in a cottage, and accuſtomed to
ſleep upon ſtraw, does not propoſe that men ſhould return
to the woods and the caves for ſhelter; he admits the rea-
fonableneſs and the utility of what is already familiar ;
and apprehends an exceſs and corruption, only in the
neweſt refinement of the riſing generation.
print
The clergy of Europe have preached ſucceſſively againſt
every new faſhion, and every innovation in dreſs. The
modes of youth are the ſubject of cenſure to the old ; and
modes of the laſt age, in their turn, are matter of ridicule
to the flippant, and the young. Of this there is not al-
ways a better account to be given, than that the old are
diſpoſed to be ſevere, and the young to be merry.
1
Bb b
THE
378
Part VI.
Of Luxury.
The argument againſt many of the conveniencies of
life, drawn from the mere conſideration of their not being
neceſſary, was equally proper in the mouth of the ſavage,
who diſſuaded from tlic firſt applications of induſtry, as
it is in that of the moraliſt, who inſiſts on the vanity of
the laſt. ' Our anceſtors,” he might ſay, “ found their
dwelling under this rock; they gathered their food in
“ the foreſt; they allayed their thirſt from the fountain;
“ and they were clothed in the ſpoils of the beaſt they
" had flain. Why ſhould we indulge a falſe delicacy,
or require from the earth fruits which ſhe is not ac-
“ cuſtomed to yield ? The bow of our fathers is already
“ too ſtrong for our arms; and the wild beaſt begins to
6 lord it in the woods."
4
+
Thus the moraliſt may have found, in the proceed-
ings of every age, thoſe topics of blame, from which he
is ſo much diſpoſed to arraign the manners of his own;
and our imbarraſſment on the ſubject; is, perhaps, but a
part of that general perplexity which we undergo, in
trying to define moral characters by external circumſtan-
ces, which may, or may not, be attended with faults in
the mind and the heart. One man finds a vice in the
wearing of linen ; another does - not, unleſs the fabric
be fine: and if, mean-time, it be true, that a perſon may
be dreſſed in manufacture, either coarſe or fine; that he
inay ſleep in the fields, or lodge in a palace ; tread upon
carpet, or plant his foot on the ground; while the mind
either retains, or has loſt, its penetration, and its vigour,
and the heart its affection to mankind, it is vain, under
any ſuch circumſtance, to ſeck for the diſinctions of
virtue
+
1
Sect. 2.
Of Luxury.
379
virtue and vice, or to tax the poliſhed citizen with weak-
neſs for any part of his equipage, or for his wearing a
fur, in which perhaps, ſome ſavage was dreſſed before
him. Vanity is not diſtinguiſhed by any peculiar ſpecies
of dreſs. It is betrayed by the Indian in the phantaſtic
aſſortments of his plumes, his ſhells, his party-coloured
furs, and in the time he beſtows at the glaſs and the
toilet. Its projects in the woods and in the town are the
ſame : in the one, it ſeeks, with the viſage bedaubed,
and with teeth artificially ſtained, for that admiration,
which it courts in the other with a gilded equipage, and
liveries of ſtate.
1
Polished nations, in their progreſs, often come to ſur-
paſs the rude in moderation, and ſeverity of manners.
“ The Greeks,” ſays Thucydides, “not long ago, like bar-
- barians, wore golden ſpangles in the hair, and went
“ armed in times of peace.” Simplicity of dreſs in this
people, became a mark of politeneſs : and the mere ma-
terials with which the body is nouriſhed or clothed, are
probably of little conſequence to any people. We muſt
look for the characters of men in the qualities of the
zmind, not in the ſpecies of their food, or in the mode
of their apparel. What are now 'the ornaments of the
grave, and ſevere ; what is owned to be a real conveni-
ency, were once the fopperies of youth, or were deviſed
to pleaſe the effeminate. The new faſhion, indeed, is
often the mark of the coxcomb; but we frequently change
our faſhions, without multiplying coxcombs, or increaſing
the meaſures of our vanity and folly.
Bbb 2
ARE
1
1
1
380
Of Luxury.
Part VI.
ARE the apprehenſions of the ſevere, therefore, in every
age, equally groundleſs and unreaſonable ? Are we never
to dread any error in the article of a refinement beſtowed
on the means of ſubſiſtence, or the conveniencies of life?
The fact is, that men are perpetually expoſed to the com-
miſſion of error in this article, not merely where they are
accuſtomed to high meaſures of accommodation, or to any
particular ſpecies of food, but where-ever theſe objects,
in general, may come to be preferred to their character,
to their country, or to mankind ; they actually commit
ſuch error, where-ever they admire paaltry diſtinctions or
frivolous advantages; where-ever they ſhrink from ſmall in-
conveniencies, and are incapable of diſcharging their duty
with vigour. The uſe of morality on this ſubject, is not to li-
mit men to any particular ſpecies of lodging, diet or cloaths;
but to prevent their conſidering theſe conveniencies as the
principal objects of human life. And if we are aſked,
Where the purſuit of trifling accommodations ſhould ſtop,
in order that man may devote himſelf entirely to the
higher engagements of life? we may anſwer, That it ſhould
ſtop where it is. This was the rule followed at Sparta: The
object of the rule was, to preſerve the heart entire for the
public, and to occupy men in cultivating their own nature,
not in accumulating wealth, and external conveniencies.
It was not expected otherwiſe, that the axe or the faw
ſhould be attended with greater political advantage, than
the plane and the chiſel. When Cato walked the ſtreets of
Rome without his robe, and without ſhoes, he did ſo, moſt
probably, in contempt of what his countrymen were fo
prone
.
2 2
-
;
Sect. 2,
Of Luxury.
381
prone to admire ; not in hopes of finding a virtue in one
fpecies of dreſs, or a. vice in another.
.
LUXURY, therefore, conſidered as a predilection in fa-
vour of the objects of vanity, and the coſtly materials of:
pleaſure, is ruinous to the human character; conſidered
as the mere uſe of accommodations and conveniencies
which the age has procured, rather depends on the pro-
greſs which the mechanical arts have made, and 'on the
degree in which the fortunes of men are unequally par-
celled, than on the diſpoſitions of particular men either.
to vice or to virtue.
Different meaſures of luxury are, however, variouſly
ſuited to different conſtitutions of government. The ad-
vancement of arts ſuppoſes an unequal diſtribution of
fortune; and the means of diſtinction they bring, ſerve
to render the ſeparation of ranks more ſenſible. Luxury
is, upon this account, apart from all its moral effects,
adverſe to the form of democratical government; and in
any ſtate of ſociety, can be ſafely adınitted in that degree
only in which the members of a community are ſuppoſed
of unequal rank, and conſtitute public order by the rela-
tions of ſuperior and vallal. High degrees of it appear
ſalutary, and even neceſſary, in monarchical and mixed ?
governments ; where, beſides the encouragement to arts
and commerce, it ſerves to give luſtre to thoſe hereditary
or conſtitutional dignities which have a place of impor-
tance in the political ſyſtem. Whether even here luxury
leads'
.
382
Part VI.
Of the Corruption incident
leads to abuſe peculiar to ages of high refinement and
opulence, we ſhall proceed to-conſider in the following
ſections.
1
SECT
III.
Of the Corruption incident to Poliſhed Nations.
L
1
TW
UXURY and corruption are frequently coupled to-
gether, and even paſs for ſynonymous terms. But
in order to avoid any diſpute about words, by the firſt
we may underſtand that accumulation of wealth, and
that refinement on the ways of enjoying it, which are the
objects of induſtry, or the fruits of mechanic and com-
mercial arts : And by the ſecond a real weakneſs, or
depravity of the human character, which may accompany
any ſtate of thoſe arts, and be found under any external
circumſtances or condition whatſoever. It remains to in-
quire, What are the corruptions incident to poliſhed nati-
ons, arrived at certain meaſures of luxury, and poſſeſſed
of certain advantages, in which they are generally ſup-
poſed to excel :
1
We need not have recourſe to a parallel between the
manners of entire nations, in the extremes of civilization
and rudeneſs, in order to be ſatisfied, that the vices of
men are not proportioned to their fortunes; or that the
habits of avarice, or of ſenſuality, are not founded on any
certain
7
1
1
1
Sect. 3.
+
to Poliſhed Nations.
383
certain meaſures of wealth, or determinate kind of en-
joyment. Where the ſituations of particular men are va-
ried as much by their perſonal ſtations, as they can be
by the ſtate of national refinements, the fame paſſions
for intereſt, or pleaſure, prevail in every condition. They
ariſe from temperament, or an acquired admiration of
property ; not from any particular manner of life in
which the parties are engaged, nor from any particular
ſpecies of property, which may have occupied their cares
and their wiſhes.
+
1
TEMPERANCE and moderation are, at leaſt, as fre-
quent among thoſe whom we call the ſuperior, as they
are among the lower claſſes of men ; and however we
may affix the character of fobriety to mere cheapneſs of
diet, and other accommodations with which any parti-
cular age, or rạnk of inen, appear to be contented, it is
well known, that coſtly materials are not neceſſary to
conſtitute a debauch, nor profligacy leſs frequent under
the thatched roof, than under the lofty ceiling. Men
grow equally familiar with different conditions, receive
equal pleaſure, and are equally allured to ſenſuality, in
the palace, and in the cave. Their acquiring in either
habits of intemperance or ſloth, depends on the remif-
fion of other purſuits, and on the diſtaſte of the mind to
other engagements. If the affections of the heart be
awake, and the paſlions of love,' admiration, or anger, be
kindled, the coftiy furnicure of the palace, as well the
homely accommodations of the cottage, are neglected :
and men, when rouſed, reject their repoſe; or, when
fatigued,
1
1
1
.384
Part VI.
Of the Corruption incident
fatigued, embrace it alike on the filken bed, or on the
couch of ſtraw.
ners.
We are not, however, from hence to conclude, that
luxury, with all its concomitant circumſtances, which
either ſerve to favour its increaſe, or which, in the ar-
rangements of civil ſociety, follow it as conſequences,
can have no effect to the diſadvantage of national man-
If that reſpite from public dangers and troubles
which gives a leiſure for the practice of commercial arts,
be continued, or increaſed, into a diſuſe of national ef-
forts; if the individual, not called to unite with his
country, be left to purſue his private advantage; we may
find him become eſſeminate, mercenary, and ſenſual ;
not becauſe pleaſures and profits are become more allu-
ring, but becauſe he has fewer calls to attend to other
objects; and becauſe he has more encouragement to ſtudy
his perſonal advantages, and purſue his ſeparate intereſts.
If the diſparities of rank and fortune which are ne-
ceſſary to the purſuit or enjoyment of luxury, introduce
falſe grounds of precedency and eſtimation ; if, on the
mere conſiderations of being rich or poor, one order of
men are, in their own apprehenſion, elevated, ano-
ther debaſed ; if one be criminally proud, another mean-
ly dejected ; and every rank in its place, like the tyrant,
who thinks that nations are made for himſelf, be diſpoſed
to aſſume on the rights of mankind : although, upon the
compariſon, the higher order may be leaſt corrupted ; or
from
1
.
Sect. 3.
to Poliſhed Nations.
385
from education, and a ſenſe of perſonal dignity, have
moſt good qualities remaining; yet the one becoming
mercenary and ſervile; the other imperious and ar-
rogant; both regardleſs of juſtice, and of merit; the
whole maſs is corrupted, and the manners of a ſociety
changed for the worſe, in proportion as its members
ceaſe to act on principles of equality, independence, or
freedom.
UPON this view, and conſidering the merits of men
in the abſtract, a mere change from the habits of a re-
public to thoſe of a monarchy; from the love of equa-
lity, to the ſenſe of a ſubordination founded on birth,
titles, and fortune, is a ſpecies of corruption to man-
kind. But this degree of corruption is ſtill conſiſtent with
the ſafety and profperity of fome nations; it admits of a
vigorous courage, by which the rights of individuals, and
of kingdoms, may be long preſerved.
Under the form of monarchy, while yet in its vi-
gour, ſuperior fortune is, indeed, one mark by which
the different orders of men are diſtinguiſhed; but there
are ſome other ingredients, without which wealth is not
admitted as a foundation of precedency, and in favour
of which it is often deſpiſed, and laviſhed away. Such-
are birth and titles, the reputation of courage, courtly
manners, and a certain elevation of mind. If we fup-
poſe, that theſe diſtinctions are forgotten, and nobility
itſelf only to be known by the ſumptuous retinue which
money alone may procure ; and by a laviſh expence,
. CCC
which
1
1
386
Part VI.
Of the Corruption incident
1
which the more recent fortunes can generally beſt fuf-
tain ; luxury muſt then be allowed to corrupt the monar-
chical as much as the republican ſtate, and to introduce
a fatal diſſolution of manners, under which men of every
condition, although they are eager to acquire, or to dif-
play their wealth, have no remains of real ambition. They
have neither the elevation of nobles, nor the fidelity of
ſubjects; they have changed into effeminate vanity, that
ſenſe of honour which gave rules to the perſonal courage;
and into a ſervile baſeneſs, that loyalty, which bound each
in his place, to his immediate ſuperior, and the whole to
the throne.
Nations are moſt expoſed to corruption from this quar-
ter, when the mechanical arts, being greatly advanced,
furniſh numberleſs articles, to be applied in ornament to
the perſon, in furniture, entertainment, or equipage; when
ſuch articles as the rich alone can procure are admired;
and when conſideration, precedence, and rank, are accord-
ingly made to depend on fortune.
In a more rude ſtate of the arts, although wealth be
unequally divided, the opulent can amaſs only the fimple
means of ſubſiſtence: They can only fill the granary, and
furniſh the ſtall ; reap from more extended fields, and
drive their herds over a larger paſture. To enjoy their
magnificence, they muſt live in a croud ; and to ſecure
their poſſeſſions, they muſt be ſurrounded with friends
that eſpouſe their quarrels. Their honours, as well as
their ſafety, conſiſt in the numbers who attend them ;
and
.
Sect. 3.
to Poliſhed Nations.
387
and their perſonal diſtinctions are taken from their libe-
rality, and ſuppoſed elevation of mind. In this manner,
the poſſeſſion of riches ferves only to make the owner
aſſume a character of magnanimity, to become the guar-
dian of numbers, or the public object of reſpect and affec-
tion. But when the bulky conſtituents of wealth, and of
ruſtic magnificence, can be exchanged for refinements;
and when the produce of the ſoil may be turned into equi-
page; and mere decoration ; when the combination of
many is no longer required for perſonal ſafety; the maſ-
ter may become the fole conſumer of his own eſtate: he
may refer the uſe of every ſubject to himſelf; he may
employ the materials of generoſity to feed a perſonal va-
nity, or to indulge a fickly and effeminate fancy, which
has learned to enumerate the trappings of weakneſs or
folly among the neceſſaries of life.
'The Perſian fatrape, we are told, when he ſaw the King
of Sparta at the place of their conference, ſtretched on the
graſs with his ſoldiers, bluſhed at the proviſion he had
made for the accommodation of his own perſon : he or-
dered the furs and the carpets to be withdrawn ; he felt
his own inferiority; and recollected, that he was to treat
with a man, not to vie with a pageant in coſtly attire and
magnificence.
When, amidſt circumſtances that make no trial of the
virtues or talents of men, we have been accuſtomed to
the air of ſuperiority, which people of fortune derive
from their retinue, we are apt to loſe every ſenſe of dif-
CCC 2
tinction
388
Part VI.
Of the Corruption incident
tinction ariſing from merit, or even from abilities. We
rate our fellow-citizens by the figure they are able to
make; by their buildings, their dreſs, their equipage,
and the train of their followers. All theſe circumſtances
make a part in our eſtimate of what is excellent; and if
the maſter himſelf is known to be a pageant in the midſt
of his fortune, we nevertheleſs pay our court to his fta-
tion, and look up with an envious, ſervile, or dejected
mind, to what is, in itſelf, ſcarcely fit to amuſe children ;
though, when it is worn as a badge of diſtinction, it in-
flames the ambition of thoſe we call the great, and ſtrikes.
the multitude with awe and reſpect.
We judge of entire nations by the productions of a
few mechanical arts, and think we are talking of men,
while we are boaſting of their eſtates, their dreſs, and
their palaces. The ſenſe in which we apply the terms,
great, and noble, high rank, and high life, ſhew, that we have,
on ſuch occaſions, transferred the idea of perfection from
the character to the equipage; and that excellence itſelf
is, in our eſteem, a mere pageant, adorned at a great ex-
pence, by the labours of many workmen.
2
To thoſe who overlook the fubtile tranſitions of the
imagination, it might appear, ſince wealth can do no
more than furniſh the means of ſubſiſtence, and purchaſe
animal pleaſures, that covetouſneſs, and venality itſelf,
ſhould keep pace with our fears of want, or with our
appetite of ſenſual enjoyments; and that where the ap-
petite is ſatiated, and the fear of want is removed, the
mind
Sect. 3.
to Poliſhed Nations
389
선
​mind ſhould be at eaſe on the ſubject of fortune. But .
they are not the mere pleaſures that riches procure, nor
the choice of viands which cover the board of the wealthy,
that inflame the paſſions of the covetous and the merce-
nary. Nature is eaſily ſatisfied in all her enjoyments. It
is an opinion of eminence, connected with fortune; it is
a ſenſe of debaſement attending on poverty, which ren-
ders us blind to every advantage, but that of the rich ;
and inſenſible to every diſgrace, but that of the
poor. It
is this unhappy apprehenfion, that occaſionally prepares us
for the deſertion of every duty, for a ſubmiſſion to every
indignity, and for the commiſſion of every crime that can
be accompliſhed in ſafety.
11
AURENGZEBE was not more renowned for ſobriety in
his private ſtation, and in the conduct of a ſuppoſed diſ-
ſimulation, by which he aſpired to ſovereign power, than
he continued to be, even on the throne of Indoftan,
Simple, abſtinent, and ſevere in his diet, and other plea-
ſures, he ſtill led the life of a hermit, and occupied his,
time with a ſeemingly painful application to the affairs
of a great empire * He quitted a ſtation in which, if
pleaſure had been his object, he might have indulged his
ſenſuality without reſerve; he made his way to a ſcene of
diſquietude and care; he aimed' at the ſummit of hu-
man greatneſs, in the poſſeſſion of imperial fortune, not
at the gratifications of animal appetite, or the enjoyment
1
* Gemelli Careri.
6
of
390
Part VI.
Of the Corruption incident
of caſe. Superior to ſenſual pleaſure, as well as to the
feclings of nature, he dethroned his father, and he mur-
dered his brothers, that he might roll in a carriage incruſted
with diamond and pearl; that his elephants, his camels,
and his horſes, on the march, might form a line extending
many leagues; might preſent a glittering harneſs to the
ſun; and loaded with treaſure, uſher to the view of an
abject and admiring croud, that awful majeſty, in whoſe
preſence they were to ſtrike the forehead on the ground,
and be overwhelmed with the ſenſe of his greatneſs, and
with that of their own debaſement,
As theſe are the objects which prompt the deſire of
dominion, and excite the ambitious to aim at the maſtery
of their fellow-creatures ; ſo they inſpire the ordinary
race of men with a ſenſe of infirmity and meanneſs, that
prepares them to ſuffer indignities, and to become the
property of perſons, whom they conſider as of a rank and
a nature ſo much fuperior to their own.
The chains of perpetual llavery, accordingly, appear
to be rivetted in the Eaſt, no leſs by the pageantry which
is made to accompany the poſſeſſion of power, than they
are by the fears of the ſword, and the terrors of a mili-
tary execution. In the Weſt, as well as the Eaſt, we arc
willing to bow to the ſplendid equipage, and ſtand at an
awful diſtance from the pomp of a princely eſtate. We
too, may be terrified by the frowns, or won by the
ſmiles, of thoſe whoſe favour is riches and honour,
and
I
Sect. 3.
to Poliſhed Nations.
391
and whoſe diſpleaſure is poverty and neglect. We too
may overlook the honours of the human ſoul, from an
admiration of the pageantries that accompany fortune.
The proceſſion of elephants harneſſed with gold might
dazzle into flaves, the people who derive corruption and
weakneſs from the effect of their own arts and contri-
vances, as well as thoſe who inherit ſervility from their
anceſtors, and are enfeebled by their natural tempera-
ment, and the enervating charms of their foil, and their
climate.
It appears, therefore, that although the mere uſe of
materials which conſtitute luxury, may be diſtinguiſhed
from actual vice; yet nations under a high ſtate of the
commercial arts, are expoſed to corruption, by their ad-
mitting wealth, unſupported by perſonal elevation and vir-
tue, as the great foundation of diſtinction, and by having
their attention turned on the ſide of intereſt, as the road to
conſideration and honour.
With this effect, luxury may ſerve to corrupt demo-
cràtical ſtates, by introducing a ſpecies of monarchical
ſubordination, without that ſenſe of high birth and he-
reditary honours which render the boundaries of rank
fixed and determinate, and which teach men to act in
their ſtations with force and propriety. It may prove the
occaſion of political corruption, even in monarchical go-
vernments, by drawing reſpect towards mere wealth ;
by caſting a ſhade on the luſtre of perſonal qualities, or
family-
1
392
Part VI.
Of the Corruption incident
family diſtinctions; and by infecting all orders of men,
with equal venality, ſervility, and cowardice.
S E C T.
IV.
The ſame ſubječt continued.
TH
HE increaſing regard with which men appear, in
the progreſs of commercial arts, to ſtudy their
profit, or the delicacy with which they refine on their
pleaſures; even induſtry itſelf, or the habit of applica-
tion to a tedious employment, in which no honours are
won, may, perhaps, be conſidered as indications of a
growing attention to intereſt, or of effeminacy contracted
in the enjoyment of caſe and conveniency. Every ſuc-
ceſſive art, by which the individual is taught to improve
on his fortune, is, in reality, an addition to his private
engagements, and a new avocation of his mind from the
public.
CORRUPTION, however, does not ariſe from the abuſe
of commercial arts alone; it requires the aid of political
ſituation; and is not produced by the objects that occupy
a ſordid and a mercenary fpirit, without the aid of circum-
ſtances that enable men to indulge in ſafety any mean diſ-
poſition they have acquired.
PROVIDENCE
Sect. 4.
to Poliſhed Nations.
393
PROVIdence has fitted mankind for the higher engage-
ments which they are ſometimes obliged to fulfil; and
it is in the midſt of ſuch engagements that they are moſt
likely to acquire or to preſerve their virtues. The habits
of a vigorous mind are formed in contending with diffi-
culties, not in enjoying the repoſe of a pacific ſtation; pe-
netration and wiſdom are the fruits of experience, not
the leſſons of retirement and leiſure; ardour and generoſity
are the qualities of a mind rouſed and animated in the
conduct of ſcenes that engage the heart, not the gifts of
reflection or knowledge. The mere intermiflion of na-
tional and political efforts is, notwithſtanding, ſometimes
miſtaken for public good; and there is no miſtake more
likely to foſter the vices, or to flatter the weakneſs, of
feeble and intereſted men.
If the ordinary arts of policy, or rather, if a grow-
ing indifference to objects of a public nature, ſhould
prevail, and, under any free conſtitution, put an end to
thoſe diſputes of party, and ſilence that noiſe of diffen-
ſion, which generally accompany the exerciſe of freedom,
we may venture to prognoſticate corruption to the na-
tional manners, as well as remiſſneſs to the national ſpi-
rit. The period is come, when, no engagement remain-
ing on the part of the public, private intereſt, and ani-
mal pleaſure, become the ſovereign objects of care.
When men, being relieved from the preſſure of great oc-
caſions, beſtow their attention on trifles; and having
carried what they are pleaſed to call ſenſibility and delicacy,
on the ſubject of eaſe or moleſtation, as far as real
Dd d
weakneſs
394
Part VI.
Of the Corruption incident
1
weakneſs or folly can go, have recourſe to affectation,
in order to enhance the pretended demands, and accu-
mulate the anxieties, of a fickly fancy, and enfeebled
mind.
1
In this condition, mankind generally flatter their
own imbecility under the name of politeneſs. They are
perſuaded, that the celebrated ardour, generoſity, and
fortitude, of former ages, bordered on frenzy, or were
the mere effects of neceflity, on men who had not the
means of enjoying their caſe or their pleaſure. They
eongratulate themſelves on having eſcaped the ſtorm
which required the exerciſe of ſuch arduous virtues.; and
with that vanity which accompanies the human race in
their meaneſt condition, they boaſt of a ſcene of affecta-
tion, of languor, or of folly, as the ſtandard of human:
felicity, and as furniſhing the propereſt exerciſe of a ra-
tional nature.
1
It is none of the leaſt menacing ſymptoms of an age
prone to degeneracy, that the minds of men become per-
plexed in the diſcernmentt of merit, as much as the fpi-
rit becomes enfeebled in conduct, and the heart milled
in the choice of its objects. The care of mere fortune
is ſuppoſed to conſtitute wiſdom ; retirement from public
affairs, and real indifference to mankind, receive the apa.
plauſes of moderation and of virtue,
$
1
GREAT fortitude, and elevation of mind, have not
always, indeed, been employed in the attainment of
5
valuable
+
Sect. 4.
to Poliſhed Nations.
395
valuable ends: but they are always reſpectable, and they
are always neceſſary when we would act for the good of
mankind, in any of the more arduous ſtations of life.
While, therefore, we blame their miſapplication, we ſhould
beware of depreciating their value. Men of a ſevere and
ſententious morality have not always ſufficiently obſerved
this caution ; nor have they been duly aware of the cor-
ruptions they flattered, by the fatire they employed againſt
what is aſpiring and prominent in the character of the
human ſoul.
}
I
It might have been expected, that in an age of hope-
lefs debaſement, the talents of Demoſthenes and Tully,
even the ill-governed magnanimity of a Macedonian,
or the daring enterpriſe of a Carthaginian leader, might
have eſcaped the acrimony of a ſatiriſt *, who had ſo ma-
ny objects of correction in his view, and who poſſeſſed
the arts of declamation in ſo high a degree:
I, demens, et fævos curre per Alpes,
Ut pueris placeas, et declamatio fias.
is part of the illiberal cenſure which is thrown by this
poet on the perſon and action of a leader, who, by his
courage and conduct, in the very ſervice to which the
ſatire referred, had well nigh ſaved his country from the
ruin with which it was at laſt overwhelmed.
Н
Juvenal's joth ſatire.
D d d 2
Heroes
396
Of the Corruption incident Part VI.
Heroes are much the ſame, the point's agreed,
From Macedonia's madman to the Swede,
is a diſtich in which another poet of beautiful talents,
has attempted to depreciate a name, to which, probably,
few of his readers are found to aſpire.
Ir men muſt go wrong, there is a choice of their errors,.
as well as of their virtues. Ambition, the love of perſonal
eminence, and the deſire of fame, although they ſometimes
lead to the commiſſion of crimes, yet always engage men
in purſuits that require to be ſupported by ſome of the
greateſt qualities of the human ſoul; and if eminence is
the principal object of purſuit, there is, at leaſt, a probam
bility, that thoſe qualities may be ftudied on which a real
elevation of mind is raiſed. But when public alarms have
ceaſed, and contempt of glory, is recommended as an article
of wiſdom, the ſordid. liabits, and mercenary. diſpoſitions,
to which, under a general indifference to national objects,
the members of a poliſhed or commercial ſtate are expoſed,
muſt prove at once the moſt effectual ſuppreſſion of every
liberal ſentiment, and the moſt fåtal reverſe of all thoſe
principles from which communities derive their-ſtrength
and their hopes of prefervation..
It is noble to poſſeſs. happineſs and independence, either
in retirement or in public life. The characteriſtic of
tbe happy, is to acquit themſelves well in every con-
dition; in the court, or in the village; in the ſenate, or in
the private retreat. But if they affect any particular fta-.
tion,
N
.
1
w
1
HIT
Sect: 4.
to Poliſhed Nations,
:
397
tion, it is ſurely that in which their actions may be ren-.
dered moſt extenſively uſeful. Our conſidering mere re-
tirement, therefore, as a ſymptom of moderation, and of
virtue, is either a remnant of that ſyſtem, under which
monks and anchorets, in former ages, have been canon-
ized; or proceeds from a habit of thinking, which appears
equally fraught with moral corruption, from our confider-
ing public life as a ſcene for the gratification of mere
vanity, avarice, and ambition; never as furniſhing the beſt
opportunity for a juft and a happy engagement of the
mind and the heart.
EMULATION, and the deſire of power, are but forry.mo--
tives to public conduct; but if they have been, in any
caſe, the principal inducements from which men have
taken part in the ſervice of their country, any diminution.
of their prevalence or force is a real corruption of na-
tional manners; and the pretended moderation aſſumed
by the higher orders of men, has a fatal effect in the
ſtate. The diſintereſted love of the public is a principle
without which ſome conſtitutions of government cannot
ſubfift:. but when we conſider how ſeldom this has ap-
peared a reigning paſſion, we liave little reaſon to impute
the proſperity or preſervatiòn of nations, in every caſe, to
its influence
A
It is ſufficient, perliaps, under one form of govern-
ment, that men ſhould be fond of their independence ; ;
that they ſhould be ready to oppoſe uſurpation, and to re-
pel perſonal indiğnities : under another, it is ſufficient, that:
they
1
398
Part VI.
Of the Corruption incident
4
they ſhould be tenacious of their rank, and of their lio-
nours; and inſtead of a zeal for the public, entertain a
vigilant jealouſy of the rights which pertain to thein-
ſelves. When numbers of men retain a certain degree
of elevation and fortitude, they are qualified to give a
mutual check to their ſeveral errors, and are able to act
in that variety of ſituations which the different conſtitu-
tions of government have prepared for their members :
but, under the diſadvantages of a feeble fpirit, however
directed, and however informed, no national conſtitution
is ſafe; nor can any degree of enlargement to which a
ſtate has arrived, ſecure its political welfare.
1
.
1
1
IN 'ftates where property, diſtinction and pleaſure,
are thrown out as baits to the imagination, and incen-
tives to paſſion, the public ſeems to rely for the preſer-
vation of its political life, on the degree of emulation
and jealouſy with which parties mutually oppoſe and
reſtrain each other. The deſires of preferment and pro-
fit in the breaſt of the citizen, are the motives from
which he is excited to enter on public affairs, and are
the conſiderations which direct his political conduct.
The ſuppreſſion, therefore, of ambition, of party-ani-
moſity, and of public envy, is probably, in every ſuch
caſe, not a reformation, but a fymptom of weakneſs,
and a prelude to more fordid purſuits, and ruinous amuſe-
ments.
i
On the eve of ſuch a revolution in manners, the higher
ranks, in every mixed or monarchical government, have
need
Sect. 4.
to Poliſhed Nations.
399
V
need to take care of themſelves. Men of buſineſs,
and of induſtry, in the inferior ſtations of life, retain
their occupations, and are ſecured, by a kind of necef-
fity, in the poſſeſſion of thoſe habits on which they rely
for their quier, and for the moderate enjoyments of life.
But the higher orders of men, if they relinquiſh the ſtate,
if they ceaſe to poſſeſs that courage and elevation of
mind, and to exerciſe thoſe talents which are employed
in its defence, and in its government, are, in reality, by
the ſeeming advantages of their ſtation, become the re-
fuſe of that ſociety of which they once were the orna-
ment; and from being the moſt reſpectable, and the
moſt happy; of its members, are become the moſt wretch-
ed and, corrupt.
In their approach to this condition;
and in the abſence of every manly occupation, they feel a
diſſatisfaction and languor which they cannot explain :
They pine in the midſt of apparent enjoyments; or, by
the variety and caprice of their different purſuits and
amuſements, exhibit a ſtate of agitation, which, like thie
diſquiet of fickneſs, is not a proof of enjoyment or plça-
fure, but of ſuffering and pain. The care of his build--
ings, his equipage, or his tablë, is choſen by one; literary,
amuſement or ſome - frivolous ſtudy, by another.' The.
ſports of the country, and the diverſions of the town; the
gaming-table *, dogs, horſes, and. wine, are, employed to
* Theſe différent occupations differ from each other, io reſpect to their dignity,
and their innocence; but none of them are the ſchools from which men are brought
to ſuſtain the tottering fortune of nations, they are equally avocations from what
ought to be the principal purſuit of man, the good of mankind.
fill
1
+
1
1
400
1
Of the Conruption incident
Part VI.
fill up the blank of a liſtleſs and unprofitable life. They
fpeak of human purſuits, as if the whole difficulty were
to find ſomething to do: They fix on ſome frivolous oc-
cupation, as if there was nothing that deſerved to be done:
They conſider what tends to the good of their fellow-crea-
tures, as a diſadvantage to themſelves: They fly from
.every ſcene, in which any efforts of vigour are required,
or in which they might be allured to perform any ſervice
to their country. We miſapply our compaſſion in pitying
the poor; it were much more juftly applied to the rich,
who become the firſt victims of that wretched inſignifi-
cance, into which the members of every corrupted ſtate,
by the tendency of their weakneſſes, and their vices, are in
haſte to plunge themſelves.
+
It is in this condition, that the ſenſual invent all thoſe
refinements on pleaſure, and deviſe thoſe incentives to a
ſatiated appetite, which tend to foſter the corruptions of
a diffolute age.
. The effects of brutal appetite, and the
mere debauch, are more flagrant, and more violent,
perhaps, in rude ages, than they are in the later periods
of commerce and luxury: but that perpetual habit of
ſearching for animal pleaſure where it is not to be
found, in the gratifications of an appetite that is cloyed,
and among the ruins of an animal conſtitution, is not
more fatal to the virtues of the ſoul, than it is even to the
enjoyment of floth, or of pleaſure; it is not a more cer-
tain avocation from public affairs, or a ſurer prelude to
national decay, than it is a diſappointment to our hopes
of private felicity.
IN
.
1A
5
1
Sect. 4.
to Poliſhed Nations.
401
In theſe reflections, it has been the object, not to af-
certain a preciſe meaſure to which corruption has riſen in
any of the nations that have attained to eminence, or that
have gone to decay; but to deſcribe that remifſneſs of
fpirit, that weakneſs of foul, that ſtate of national debility,
which is likely to end in political flavery; an evil which
remains to be conſidered as the laſt object of caution, and
beyond which there is no ſubject of diſquiſition in the pe-
riſhing fortunes of nations.
1
S E C T.
V.
.
Of Corruption, as it tends to Political Slavery.
.
L
IBERTY, in one ſenſe, appears to be the portion of
poliſhed nations alone. The ſavage is perſonally
free, becauſe he lives unreſtrained, and acts with the
members of his tribe on terms of equality. The barba-
rian is frequently independent from a continuance of the
ſame circumſtances, or becauſe he has courage and a
ſword. But good policy alone can provide for the regu-
lar adminiſtration of juſtice, or conſtitute a force in the
ſtate, which is ready on every occafion to defend the rights
of its members.
It has been found, that, except in a few fingular caſes,
the commercial and political arts have advanced together.
Еее
Theſe
*
402
Part VI.
Of Corruption, as it tends
}
Theſe arts have been in modern Europe ſo interwoven,
that we cannot determine which were prior in the order of
time, or derived moſt advantage from the mutual influences
with which they act and re-act on each other. It has been
obſerved, that in fome nations the ſpirit of commerce, in-
tenț on ſecuring its profits, has led the way to political
wiſdom. A people, pofleffed of wealth, and becomc jealous
of their properties, have formed the project of emancipa-
tion, and have proceeded, under favour of an importance
recently gained, ſtill farther to enlarge their pretenſions,
and to diſpute the prerogatives which their ſovereign had
been in uſe to employ. But it is in vain that we expect in
one age, from the poſſeſſion of wealth, the fruit which it
is ſaid to have borne in a former. Great acceflions of
fortune, when recent, when accompanied with frugality,
and a ſenſe of independence, may render the owner con-
fident in lis ſtrength, and ready to fpurn at oppreſſion.
The purſe which is open, not to perſonal expence, or to
the indulgence of vanity, but to ſupport the intereſts of
a faction, to gratify the higher paſſions of party, render
the wealthy citizen formidable to thoſe who pretend to do-
minion; but it does not follow, that in a time of corrup-
tion, equal, or greater, meaſures of wealth ſhould operate
to the ſame effect.
I
On the contrary, when wealth is accumulated only in
the hands of the miſer, and runs to waſte from thoſe of
the prodigal; when heirs of family find themſelves
ſtraitened and poor, in the midſt of affluence; when the
cravings of luxury ſilence even the voice of party and .
faction; when the hopes of meriting the rewards of
compliance,
4
1
Sect. 5.
to Political Slavery.
403
compliance, or the fear of loſing what is lield at difcre-
tion, keep men in a ſtate of ſuſpenſe and anxiety; when
fortune, in ſhort, inſtead of being conſidered as the in-
ſtrument of a vigorous fpirit, becomes the idol of a co-
verous or a profuſe, of a rapacious or a timorous mind;
the foundation on which freedom was built, may ſerve
to ſupport a tyranny; and what, in one age, raiſed the
pretenfions, and foſtered the confidence of the ſubject,
may, in another, incline him to ſervility, and furniſh
the price to be paid for his proſtitutions.
Even thoſe,
who, in a vigorous age, gave the example of wealth, in
the hands of the people, becoming an occaſion of free-
dom, may, in times of degeneracy, verify likewiſe the
maxim of Tacitus, That the admiration of-riches leads to
deſpotical government*
Men who have taſted of freedom, and who have
felt their perſonal rights, are not eaſily taught to bear
with incroachments on either, and cannot, without ſome
preparation, come to ſubmit to oppreſſion. They may
receive this unhappy preparațion, under different forms
of government, from different hands, and arrive at the
fame end by different ways. They follow one direction
in republics, another in monarchies, and in mixed go-
. But where ever the ſtate has, by means
that do not preſerve the virtue of the ſubject, effectually
guarded his fafety; remifſneſs, and neglect of the pub-
vernments.
* Eft apud illos et opibus honos; coque unus imperitat, nullis jam exceptionibus,
non precario jure parendi. Nec arma ut apud ceteros Germanos in promiſcuo, fed
clauſa ſub cuftode: ct quidem fervo, &c. Tacitus de mor. Ger. C. 44.
Eee 2
lic,
404 Of Corruption, as it tends Part VI.
4
lic, are likely to follow; and poliſhed nations of every
deſcription, appear to encounter a danger, on this quarter,
proportioned to the degree in which they have, during
any continuance, enjoyed the uninterrupted poſſeſſion of
peace and proſperity.
1
LIBERTY reſults, we ſay, from the government of
laws; and we are apt to conſider ſtatutes, not merely
as the reſolutions and maxims of a people determined.
to be free, not as the writings by which their rights
are kept on record; but as a power erected to guard.
them, and as a barrier which the caprice of man cannot
tranſgreſs.
When a baſha, in Aſia, pretend's to decide 'every con-
troverſy by the rules of natural equity, we allow that
he is poſſeſſed of diſcretionary powers. When a judge
in Europe is left to decide, according to his own inter-
pretation of written laws, is he in any ſenſe more res
ſtrained than the former? Have the multiplied words of
a ſtatute an influence over the conſcience, and the lieart,
more powerful than that of reaſon and nature ? Does
the party, in any judicial proceeding, enjoy a leſs degree
of ſafety, when his rights are diſcuſſed on the founda-
tion of a rule that is open to the underſtandings of man-
kind, than when they are referred to an intricate ſyſtem,
which it has been the object of a ſeparate profeſſion to
kudy and to explain?
If forms of proceeding, written ſtatutes, or other con-
ftituents of law, ceaſe to be enforced by the very fpirit
from
1
Sect. 5.
to Political Slavery.
405
from which they aroſe; they ſerve only to cover, not
to reſtrain, the iniquities of power: they are poſſibly
reſpected even by the corrupt magiſtrate, when they fa-
vour his purpoſe; but they are. contemned or evaded,
when they ſtand in his way: And the influence of laws,
where they have any real effect in the preſervation of li-
berty, is not any magic power deſcending from ſhelves
that are loaded with books, but is, in reality, the influ-
ence of men reſolved to be free; of men, who, having
adjuſled in writing the terms on which they are to live
with the ſtate, and with their fellow-ſubjects, are deter-
mined, by their vigilance and ſpirit, to, make theſe terms
be fulfilled.
We are taught, under every form of government, to
apprehend uſurpations, from the: abuſe, or from the ex-
tenſion of the executive power. In pure monarchies,
this power is commonly hereditary, and made to deſcend
in a determinate line. In elective monarchies, it is held
for life. In republics, it is exerciſed during a limited
time, Where men, or families, are called by election.
to the poſſeſſion of temporary dignities, it is more the
object of ambition to perpetuate, than to extend their
powers.. In hereditary
In hereditary monarchies; the ſovereignty is
already. perpetual; and the aim of every ambitious,
prince, is to enlarge his prerogative: Republics, and,
in times of commotion, communities of every form; are
expoſed to hazard, not from thoſe only who are formally
raiſed to places of truſt, but from every perſon what-
ever,
f
+
406
Part VI.
Of Corruption, as it tends
ever, wlio is incited by ambition, and who is ſupported by
faction,
1
Ir is no advantage to a prince, or other magiſtrate, to
enjoy more power than is conſiſtent with the good of mana-
kind ; nor is it of any benefit to a man to be unjuſt: but
thcſc maximns are a feeble ſecurity againſt the paſſions
and follies of men. Thoſe who are intruſted with power
in any degree, are diſpoſed; from a mere diſlike of con-
ſtraint, to remove oppoſition. Not only the monarch who
wears a liereditary crown, but the magiſtrate who holds
his office for a limited time, grows fond of his dignity.
The very miniſter, who depends for his place on the mo-
mentary will of his prince, and whoſe perſonal intereſts
are, in every reſpect, thoſe of a ſubject, ſtill has the cak-
neſs to take an intereſt in the growth of prerogative, and
to reckon as gain to himſelf the incroachments he has
made on the rights of a people, with whom he himic!
and his family are ſoon to be numbered.
Even with the beſt intentions towards mankind, we
are inclined to think, that their welfare depends, not on
the felicity of their own inclinations, or the happy em-
ployinent of their own talents, but on their ready com-
pliance with what we have deviſed for their good. AC-
cordingly, the greateſt virtue of which any ſovereign
has hitherto ſhown an example, is not a deſire of che-
riſhing in his people the ſpirit of freedom and of in-
dependence, but what is in itſelf ſufficiently rare, and
highly
.
i
1
Sect. 5.
to Political Slavery.
407
1
1
highly meritorious, a ſteady regard to the diſtribution
of juſtice in matters of property, a diſpoſition to protect
and to oblige, to redreſs the grievances, and to promote
the intereſt of his ſubjects. It was from a reference to
theſe objects, that Titus computed the value of his time,
and judged of its application. But the ſword, which in
this beneficent hand was drawn to protect the ſubject,
and to procure a ſpeedy and effectual diſtribution of
juſtice, was likewiſe ſufficient in the hands of a tyrant,
to ſhed the blood of the innocent, and to cancel the rights
of men. The temporary proceedings of humanity, though
they ſuſpended the exerciſe of oppreſſion, did not break
the national chains: the prince was even the better en-
abled to procure that ſpecies of good which he ſtudied ;
becauſe there was no freedom remaining, and becauſe
there was nowhere a force to diſpute his decrees, or to
interrupt their execution.
+
Was it in vain, that Antoninus became acquainted
with the characters of Thraſea, Helvidius, Cato, Dion,
,
and Brutus? Was it in vain, that he learned to under-
ſtand the form of a free community, raiſed on the ba-
ſis of equality and juſtice; or of a monarchy under
which the liberties of the ſubject were held the moſt fa-
cred object of adminiſtration *? Did he iniſtake the
means of procuring to mankind what he points out as a
bleſſing? Or did the abſolute power with which he was
furniſhed, in a mighty empire, only diſable him from
* M. Antoninus, lib. I.
executing
1
1
408
Part VI.
Of Corruption, as it tends
exccuting what his mind had perceived as a national
good? In ſuch a caſe, it were vain to flatter the monarch
or his people. The firſt cannot beſtow liberty, without
raiſing a ſpirit, which may, on occaſion, ſtand in oppofi-
tion to his own deſigos; nor the latter receive this bleſ-
ſing, while they own that it is in the right of a maſter
to give or to with-hold it. The claim of juſtice is firm
and peremptory..
We receive favours with a ſenſe of
obligation and kindneſs; but we would inforce our
rights, and the ſpirit of freedom in this exertion cannot
take the tone of fupplication, or of thankfulneſs, with-
out betraying itſelf. “ You have intreated Octavius,” ſays
Brutus to Cicero, " that he would ſpare thoſe wlio ſtand
5 foremoſt among the citizens of Rome. What if he will
“ not? Muſt we perifh? Yes ; rather than owe our ſafety
to him."
.66
LIBERTY is a right which every individual muſt be
ready to vindicate for himſelf, and which he who
pre-
tends to beſtow as a favour, has by that very act in rea-
lity denied. Even political eſtabliſhments, though they
appear to be independent of the will and arbitration of
men, cannot be relied on for the preſervation of free-
dom: they may nouriſh, but ſhould not ſuperſede that
firm and reſolute ſpirit, with which the liberal mind is
always prepared to reſiſt indignities, and to refer its ſafety
0 itſelf.
Were a nation, therefore, given to be moulded by
a ſovereign, as the clay is put into the hands of the
pot-
ter,
-
Sect. 5.
to Political Slavery.
409
1
at
ter, this project of beſtowing liberty on a people who are
actually ſervile, is, perhaps, of all others, the moſt dif-
ficult, and requires moſt to be executed in ſilence, and
with the deepeſt reſerve. Men are qualified to receive
this bleſſing, only in proportion as they are made to ap-
prehend their own rights ; and are made to reſpect the juſt
pretenſions of mankind ; in proportion as they are wil-
ling to ſuſtain, in their own perſons, the burden of
go-
vernment, and of national defence; and are willing to
prefer the engagement of a liberal mind, to the enjoy-
ments of ſloth, or the deluſive hopes of a ſafety purcha-
ſed by ſubmiſſion and fear.
I ſpeak with refpect, and, if I may be allowed the
expreſſion, even with indulgence, to thoſe who are in-
truſted with high prerogatives in the political ſyſtem of
nations. It is, indeed, ſeldom their fault that ſtates are
inſlaved. What ſhould be expected from them, but that
being actuated by human deſires, they ſhould be averſe
to diſappointment, or even to delay; and in the ardour
with which they purſue their object, that they ſhould
break through the barriers that would ſtop their career ?
If millions recede before ſingle men, and ſenates are paf-
five, as if compoſed of members who had no opinion
or ſenſe of their own; on whoſe fide have the defences of
freedom given way, or to whom ſhall we impute their fall ?
to the ſubject, who has deſerted his ſtation ; or to the ſo-
vereign, who has only remained in his own; and who, if
the collateral or ſubordinate members of government ſhall
Fff
ceaſe
5
+
vient
+
4.10
Of Corruption, as it tends Part VI.
ceaſe to queſtion his power, muſt continue to govern with-
out any reſtraint :
It is well known, that conſtitutions framed for the
preſervation of liberty, muſt conſiſt of many parts; and
that ſenates, popular aſſemblies, courts of juſtice, ma-
giſtrates of different orders, muſt combine to balance
each other, while they exerciſe, ſuſtain, or check the exe-
cutive power. If any part is ftruck out, the fabric muſt
totter, or fall; if any member is remifs, the others muſt
incroach. In aſſemblies conſtituted by men of different
talents, habits, and apprehenſions, it were ſomething more
than human that could make them agree in every point
of importance ; having different opinions and views, it
were want of integrity to abſtain from diſputes : our very
praiſe of unanimity, therefore, is to be conſidered as a
danger to liberty. We wiſh for it, at the hazard of taking
in its place, the remiſſneſs of men grown indifferent to the
public; the venality of thoſe who have ſold the rights of
their country; or the ſervility of others, who give impli-
cit obedience to a leader by whom their minds are ſub
dued. The love of the public, and reſpect to its laws, are
the points in which mankind are bound to agree; but if,
in matters of controverſy, the ſenſe of any individual or
party is invariably purſued, the cauſe of freedom is already
betrayed.
He whoſe office it is to govern a fupine or an abject
people, cannot, for a moment, ceaſe to extend his powers.
Every execution of law, every movement of the ſtate,
every
Sect. 5.
to Political Slavery.
1
4.LI.
every civil and military operation, in which his power is
exerted, muſt ſerve to confirm his authority, and preſent
him to the view of the public, as the ſole object of con-
fideration, fear, and reſpect. Thoſe very eſtabliſhments
which were deviſed, in one age, to limit, or to direct the
exerciſe of an executive power, will ſerve, in another, to
remove obſtructions, and to ſmooth its way; they will
point out the channels in which it may run, without
giving offence, or without exciting alarms, and the very
councils which were inſtituted to check its incroachments,
will, in a time of corruption, furniſh an aid to its uſur-
pations.
The paſſion for independence, and the love of dominion,
frequently ariſe from a common ſource: There is, in both,
an averſion to controul ; and he, who in one ſituation,
cannot bruik a ſuperior, may in another, diſlike to be
joined with an equal.
WHAT the prince, under a pure or limited monarchy,
is, by the conſtitution of his country, the leader of a fac-
tion would willingly become in republican governments.
If he attains to this envied condition, his own inclina-
tion, or the tendency of human affairs, ſeem to open
before him the career of a royal ambition : but the cir-
cumſtances in which he is deſtined to act, are very diffe-
rent from thoſe of a king. He encounters with men
who are unuſed -to diſparity; he is obliged, for his own
ſecurity, to hold the dagger continually unfheathed. When
F f f 2
he
1
.
)
I
4.12
Of Corruption, as it tends Part VI.
he hopes to be ſafe, he poſſibly means to be juft; but
is hurried, from the firſt moment of his uſurpation, into
every exerciſe of deſpotical power. The heir of a crown
has no ſuch quarrel to maintain with his ſubjects: his
ſituation is flattering; and the heart maſt be uncommonly
bad, that does not glow with affection to a people, who
are, at once, his admirers, his ſupport, and the ornaments
of his reign. In him, perhaps, there is no explicit deſign
of treſpaſſing on the rights of his ſubjects ; but the forms
intended to preſerve their freedom, are not, on this ac-
count, always ſafe in his hands.
1.
.
1
SLAVERY has been impoſed upon mankind in the wan-
tonneſs of a depraved ambition, and tyrannical cruelties
have been committed in the gloomy hours of jealouſy and
terror : yet theſe demons are not neceſſary to the creation,
or to the ſupport of an arbitrary power. Although no po-
licy was ever more ſucceſsful than that of the Roman re
public in maintaining a national fortune ; yet ſubjects, as
well as their princes, frequently imagine that freedom iš
a clog on the proceedings of government: they imagine,
that deſpotical power is beſt fitted to procure diſpatchi
and ſecrecy in the execution of public councils ; to main-
tain what they are pleaſed to call political order*, and to give
a ſpeedy
* Our notion of order in civil ſociety being taken from the analogy of ſubjects
inanimate and dead, is frequently falſe; we conſider commotion and action as contrary
to its nature ; we think that obedience, fecrecy, and the filenų paſſing of affairs
through the hands of a few, are its real conſtituents. The good order of ſtones in
a wall, is their being properly fixed in the places for which they are bewn ; were they
8
to
Sect. 5
ta Political Slavery.
413
a ſpeedy redreſs of complaints. They even ſometimes
acknowledge, that if a ſucceſſion of good princes could
be found, deſpotical government is beſt calculated for the
happineſs of mankind. While they reaſon thus, they can-
not blame a ſovereign who, in the confidence that he is
to employ his power for good purpoſes, endeavours to ex-
tend its limits ; and, in his own apprehenſion, ſtrives only
to ſhake off the reſtraints which ſtand in the way of reaſon,
and which prevent the effect of his friendly intentions.
Thus prepared for uſurpation, let him, at the head
of a free ſtate, employ the force with which he is arm-
ed, to cruſh the ſeeds of apparent diſorder in every cor-
ner of his dominions ; let him effectually curb the ſpirit
of diffenfion and variance among his people ; let him re-
move the interruptions to government, ariſing from the
refractory humours and the private intereſts of his fub-
jects ; let him collect the force of the ſtate againſt its
enemies, by availing himſelf of all it can furniſh in
the way of taxation and perſonal ſervice ; it is extremely
probable, that, even under the direction of wiſhes for
the good of mankind, he may break through every bar-
rier of liberty, and eſtabliſh a deſpotiſm, while he flat-
+
.
to ftir, the building muſt fall : but the good order of men in ſociety, is their being
placed where they are properly qualified to act. The firft is a fabric made of dead
and inanimate parts, the ſecond is made of living and of active members. When we
feek in ſociety for the order of mere inaction and tranquillity, we forget the nature of
our ſubject, and find the order of ſlaves, not that of free men.
ters
414
Part VI.
Of Corruption, as- it tends
ters himſelf, that he only follows the dictates of ſenſe and
propriety.
When we ſuppoſe government to have beſtowed a de-
gree of tranquillity which we ſometimes hope to reap
from it, as the beſt of its fruits, and public affairs to pro-
ceed, in the ſeveral departments of legiſlation and execu-
tion, with the leaſt poſſible interruption to commerce and
lucrative arts ; ſuch a ſtate, like that of China, by throw-
ing affairs into ſeparate offices, where conduct conſiſts
in detail, and in the obſervance of forms, by ſuperſeding
all the exertions of a great or a liberal mind, is more akin
to deſpotiſm than we are apt to imagine.
Whether oppreſſion, injuſtice, and cruelty, are the
only evils which attend on deſpotical government;. may be
conſidered apart. In the mean time it is ſufficient to ob-
ferve, that liberty is never in greater danger than it is
when we meaſure national felicity by the bleſſings which
a prince may beſtow, or by the mere tranquillity which
may attend on equitable adminiſtration. The ſovereign
may dazzle with his heroic qualities ; he may protect his
ſubjects in the enjoyment of every animal advantage or
pleaſure: but the benefits ariſing from liberty are of a dif-
ferent fort; they are not the fruits of a virtue, and of a
goodneſs, which operate in the breaſt of one man, but
the communication of virtue itſelf to many; and ſuch
a diſtribution of functions in civil ſociety, as gives to
numbers the exerciſes and occupations which pertain to
their nature.
THE
.
1
Sect. 5.
: to Political Slavery.
4.1.5
::
The beſt conſtitutions of government are attended
with inconvenience ; and the exerciſe of liberty may,
on many occaſions, give riſe to complaints. When we
are intent on reforming abuſes, the abuſes of freedom
may lead us to incroach on the ſubject from which they
are ſuppoſed to ariſe.' Deſpotiſm itſelf has certain ad-
vantages, or at leaſt, in times of civility and modera-
tion, may proceed with ſo little offence, as to give no
public alarm. Theſe circumſtances may lead mankind,
in the very ſpirit of reformation, or by mere inattention,
to apply or to admit of dangerous innovations in the ſtate
of their policy:
Slavery, however, is not always introduced by miſtake;
it is ſometimes impoſed in the ſpirit of violence and ra-
pine. Princes become corrupt as well as their people ;
and whatever may have been the origin of deſpótical
government, its pretenſions, when fully declared, give riſe
between the ſovereign and his ſubjects, to a conteſt which
force alone can decide. Theſe pretenſions have a dange-
. rous aſpect to the perſon, the property, or the life of every
ſubject; they alarm every paſſion in the human breaſt;
they diſturb the ſupine ; they deprive the venal of his hire;
they declare war on the corrupt as well as the virtuous;
they are tamely admitted only by the coward ; but even
to him muſt be ſupported by a force that can work on his
fears. This force the conqueror brings from abroad; and
the domeſtic uſurper endeavours to find in his faction at
home.
WHEN
4
416
Part VI.
Of Corruption, as it tends
ܕ
܀ '
A
When a .people is accuſtomed tọ arms, it is difficult
for a párt to ſubdue the whole ; or before the eſtabliſh-
ment of diſciplined armies, it is difficult for any uſurper
to govern the many by the help of a few. Theſe difficul-
ties, however, the policy of civilized and commercial na-
tions has ſometimes removed; and by forming a diſtinc-
tion between civil and military profeſſions, by committing
the keeping and the enjoyment of liberty to different
hands, has prepared the way for tlie dangerous alliance of
faction with military power, in oppoſition to mere political
forms, and the rights of mankind.
A people who are difarmed in compliance with this
fatal refinement, have reſted their ſafety on the plead-
ings of reaſon and of juſtice at the tribunal of ambition
and of force. In ſuch an extremity; laws are quoted,
and ſenatės are aſſembled, in vain. They who compoſe
a legiſlature, or who occupy the civil departments of ſtate,
may deliberate on the meſſages they receive from the
camp or the court; but if the bearer; like the centurion
who brought the petition of: Octavius to the Roman fe-
nate, ſhew the hilt of his ſword *, they find that peti-
tions are become commands, and that they themſelves
are become the pageants, not the repoſitories of ſovereign
power.
THE reflections of this ſection may be unequally ap-
*
.
Sueton.
plied
1
Scct. 5.
to Political Slavery.
4.17
plied to nations of unequal extent. Small communities,
however corrupted, are not prepared for deſpotical go-
vernment: their members, crouded together, and conti-
guous to the ſeats of power, never forget their relation
to the public; they pry, with habits of familiarity and
freedom, into the pretenſions of thoſe who would rule :
and where the love of equality, and the ſenſe of juſtice,
have failed, they act on motives of faction, emulation, and
envy. The exiled Tarquin had his adherents at Rome;
but if by their means he had recovered his ſtation, it is
probable, that in the exerciſe of his royalty, he muſt have
entered on a new ſcene of contention with the very party
that reſtored him to power.
In proportion as territory is extended, its parts loſe their
relative importance to the whole. Its inhabitants ceaſe
to perceive their connection with the ſtate, and are ſel-
dom united in the execution of any national, or even of
any factious deſigns. Diſtance from the ſeats of admini-
ſtration, and indifference to the perſons who contend for
preferment, teach the majority to conſider themſelves as
the ſubjects of a ſovereignty, not as the members of a
political body. It is even remarkable, that enlargement
of territory, by rendering the individual of leſs confe-
quence to the public, and leſs able to intrude with his
counſel, actually tends to reduce national affairs within a
narrower compaſs, as well as to diminiſh the numbers
who are conſulted in legiſlation, or in other matters of
government.
THE
G88
418
Part VI.
Of Corruption, as it tends, &c.
The diſorders to which a great empire is expoſed, require
fpeedy prevention, vigilance, and quick execution. Diſtant
provinces muſt be kept in ſubjection by military force; and
the dictatorial powers, which, in free ſtates, are ſometimes
raiſed to quell inſurrections, or to oppoſe other occaſional
evils, appear, under a certain extent of dominion, at all
times equally neceſſary to ſuſpend the diffolution of a
body, whoſe parts were aſſembled, and muſt be cemented,
· by meaſures forcible, deciſive, and ſecret. Among the cir-
cumſtances, therefore, which in the event of national
pro-
ſperity, and in the reſult of commercial arts, lead to the
eſtabliſhment of deſpotiſm, there is none, perhaps, that
arrives at this termination, with ſo ſure an aim, as the per-
petual enlargement of territory. In every ſtate, the free-
dom of its members depends on the balance and adjuſt-
ment of its interior parts ; and the exiſtence of any ſuch
freedom anong mankind, depends on the balance of na-
tions. In the progreſs of conqueſt, thoſe who are ſub-
dued are ſaid to have loſt their liberties; but from the
hiftory of mankind, to conquer, or to be conquered, has
appeared, in effect, the fame.
!
SECT
an
Sect. 6,
Of the Progreſs, &c.
419
SECT.
VI.
Of the Progreſs and Termination of Deſpotiſm.
MA
ANKIND, when they degenerate, and tend to their
ruin, as well as when they improve, and gain real
advantages, frequently proceed by flow, and almoſt in-
ſenſible, ſteps. If during ages of activity and vigour,
they fill up the meaſure of national greatneſs to a height
which no human wiſdom could at a diſtance foreſee;
they, actually incur, in ages of relaxation and weakneſs,
many evils which their fears did not ſuggeſt, and which,
perhaps, they had thought far removed by the tide of
fucceſs and proſperity.
1
We have already obſerved, that where men are remiſs
or corrupted, the virtue of their leaders, or the good
intention of their magiſtrates, will not always ſecure
them in the poſſeſſion of political freedom. Implicit
ſubmiſſion to any leader, or thc uncontrouled exerciſe of
any power, even when it is intended to operate for the
good of mankind, may frequently end in the ſubverſion
of legal eſtabliſhments. This fatal revolution, by what-
ever means it is accompliſhed, terminates in military go-
vernment; and this, though the ſimpleſt of all govern-
ments, is rendered complete by degrees. In the firſt pe-
riod
GSS 2
I
420
Part VI.
Of the Progreſs and
riod of its exerciſe over men who have acted as mem-
bers of a free community, it can have only laid the foun-
dation, not completed the fabric, of a deſpotical policy.
The uſurper, who has poſſeſſed, with an army, the centre
of a great empire, ſees around him, perhaps, the ſhattered
remains of a former conftitution ; he may hear the mur-
murs of a reluctant and unwilling ſubmiſſion; he may
even fee danger in the aſpect of many, from whoſe hands
he may have wreſted the ſword, but whoſe minds he has
not ſubdued, nor reconciled to his power.
The ſenſe of perſonal rights, or the pretenſion to pri-
vilege and honours, which remain among certain orders
of men, are ſo many bars in the way of a recent uſurpa-
tion. If they are not ſuffered to decay with age, and to
wear away in the progreſs of a growing corruption, they
muſt be broken with violence, and the entrance to every
new acceſſion of power muſt be ſtained with blood. The
effect, even in this caſe, is frequently tardy. The Roman
fpirit, we know, was not entirely extinguiſhed under a
ſucceſſion of maſters, and under a repeated application of
bloodſhed and poiſon. The noble and reſpectable family
fill aſpired to its original honours: The hiſtory of the
republic, the writings of former times, the monuments of
illuſtrious men, and the leſſons of a philoſophy fraught
with heroic conceptions, continued to nouriſh the ſoul in
retirement, and formed thoſe eminent characters, whoſe
clevation, and whoſe fate, are, perhaps, the moſt affecting
* ſubjects of human ſtory. Though unable to oppoſe the ge-
neral
t
Sect. 6.
Termination of Deſpotiſm.
421
neral bent to ſervility, they became, on account of their
ſuppoſed inclinations, objects of diſtruſt and averſion; and
were inade to pay with their blood, the price of a ſenti-
ment which they foſtered in ſilence, and which glowed
only in the heart.
1
J
While deſpotiſm proceeds in its progreſs, by what
principle is the ſovereign conducted in the choice of
meaſures that tend to eſtabliſh his government? By a
.
miſtaken apprehenſion of his own good, ſometimes even
of that of his people, and by the deſire which he feels
on every particular occaſion, to remove the obſtructions
which impede the execution of his will. When he has.
fixed a reſolution, whoever reaſons or remonſtrates a-
gainſt it is an enemy; when his mind is elated, who-
ever pretends to eminence, and is diſpoſed to act for
himſelf, is a rival. He would leave no dignity in the
ftate, but what is dependent on himſelf; no active
power, but what carries the expreſſion of his momentary
pleaſure *. Guided by a perception as unerring as that
of inſtinct, he never fails to ſelect the proper objects of
his antipathy or of his favour. The aſpect of independ-
ence repels him; that of ſervility attracts. The tendency
of his adminiſtration is to quiet every reſtleſs fpirit, and
to aſſume every function of government to himſelf to.
When
* Jofurgere paulatim, munia fenatus, magiſtratuum, legum in fe trahere.
+ It is ridiculous to hcar men of a reſtleſs ambition, who would be the only:
actors in every ſcene, ſometimes complain of a. refractory ſpirit in mankind; as if?"
the
4:22
Part VI.
Of the Progreſs and
1
1
1
When the power is adequate to the end, it operates as
much in the hands of thoſe who do not perceive the ter-
mination, as it does in the hands of others by whom it
is beſt underſtood: the mandates of either, when juſt,
ſhould not be diſputed; when erroneous or wrong, they
are ſupported by force.
You muſt die, was the anſwer of Octavius to every
ſuit, from a people that implored his mercy. It was the
ſentence which ſome of his ſucceſſors pronounced againſt
every citizen that was eminent for his birth or his virtues.
But are the evils of deſpotiſm confined to the cruel and
fanguinary methods, by which a recent dominion over
a refractory and a turbulent people is eſtabliſhed or
maintained? And is death the greateſt calamity which
can afflict mankind under an eſtabliſhment by which
they are diveſted of all their rights ? They are, indeed,
frequently ſuffered to live; but diſtruſt, and jealouſy,
the ſenſe of perſonal meanneſs, and the anxieties which
ariſe from the care of a wretched intereſt, are made to
poffefs the foul; every citizen is reduced to a llave; and
every charm by which the community engaged its mem-
bers, has ceaſed to exiſt. Obedience is the only duty
that remains, and this is exacted by force. If under
ſuch an eſtabliſhment, it be neceſſary to witneſs ſcenes of
debaſement and horror, at the hazard of catching the in-
fection, death becomes a relief; and the libation which
Thraſea was made to pour from his arteries, is to be
the ſame diſpoſition from which they deſire to uſurp every office, did not incline every
other perſon to reaſon and to act at leaſt for himſelf.
conſidered
1
+
2
Sect. 6.
Termination of Deſpotiſm.
423
conſidered as a proper facrifice of gratitude to Jove the is
Deliverer *
OPPRESSION and cruelty are not always neceſſary to de
fpotical government; and even when preſent, are but a
part of its evils. It is founded on corruption, and on the
ſuppreſſion of all the civil and the political virtues; it re-
quires its ſubjects to act from motives of fear ; it would
aſſwage the paſſions of a few men at the expence of man-
kind ; and would erect the peace of ſociety itſelf on the
ruins of that freedom and confidence from which alone
the enjoyment, the force, and the elevation of the human
mind, are found to ariſe.
!
ܕܐ
1
1
During the exiſtence of any free conſtitution, and whilſt
every individual poſſeſſed his rank and his privilege, or .
had his apprehenſion of perſonal rights, the members of
every community were to one another objects of confide-
ration and of reſpect ; every point to be carried in civil ſo-
ciety, required the exerciſe of talents, of wiſdom, perſua-
fion, and vigour, as well as of power. But it is the higheſt
refinement of a deſpotical government, to rule by ſimple
commands, and to exclude every art but that of compul-
fion. Under the influence of this policy, therefore, the
occaſions which employed and cultivated the underſtand-
* Porrectiſque utriuſque brachii venis, poſtquam cruorem effudit, humum fuper
ſpargens, proprius vocato Quæſtore, Libenus, inquit, Jovi Liberatori. Specta.
juvenis ; ct omen quidem Dii prohibeant; ceterum in ca tempora natus es, quibus
firinare animum deceat conſtantibus exemplis. Tacit. Ann. lib. 16.
ings
1
.
4
1
424
Of the Progreſs and Part VI.
+
$
ings of men, which awakened their ſentiments, and kindled
their imaginations, are gradually removed; and the pro-
greſs by which mankind attained to the honours of their
nature, in being engaged to act in ſociety upon a liberal
footing, was not more uniform, or leſs interrupted, than
that by which they degencrate in this unhappy condition.
vernment.
When we hear of the filence which reigns in the ſe-
raglio, we are made to believe, that ſpeech itſelf is bc-
come unneceſſary; and that the ſigns of the mute are
ſufficient to carry the moſt important mandates of go-
No arts, indeed, are required to maintain
an aſcendant where terror alone is oppoſed to force,
where the powers of the ſovereign are delegated entire
to every ſubordinate officer: nor can any ſtation beſtow
a liberality of mind in a ſcene of ſilence and dejection,
where every breaſt is poſſeſſed with jealouſy and cau-
tion, and where no object, but animal pleaſure remains
to balance the ſufferings of the ſovereign himſelf, or thoſe
of his ſubjects.
In other ſtates, the talents of men are ſometimes im-
proved by the exerciſes which belong to an eminent fta-
tion: but here the maſter himſelf is probably the rudeſt
and leaſt cultivated animal of the herd; he is inferior
to the flave, whom he raiſes from a ſervile office to the
firſt places of truſt or of dignity in his court. The pri-
mitive fimplicity which formed ties of familiarity and
affection betwixt the ſovereign and the keeper of his
herds
1
t
1
Sect. 6.
Termination of Deſpotiſm.
425
1
herds *, appears, in the abſence of all affections, to be
reſtored, or to be counterfeited amidſt thic ignorance and
brutality which equally characteriſe all orders of men, or
rather which level the ranks, and deſtroy the diſtinction
of perſons in a deſpotical court.
CAPrice and paſlion are the rules of government with
the prince. Every delegate of power is left to act by the
ſame direction ; to ſtrike when he is provoked ; to favour
when he is pleaſed. In what relates to revenue, juriſdic-
tion, or police, every governor of a province acts like a
leader in an enemy's country; comes armed with the
terrors of fire and ſword ; and inſtead of a tax, levies a
contribution by force: he ruins or fpares as either may
ſerve his purpoſe. When the clamours of the oppreſſed, .
or the reputation of a treaſure amaſſed at the expence of
a province, have reached the ears of the ſovereign, the
extortioner is indeed made to purchaſe impunity by im-
parting a ſhare, or by forfeiting the whole of his ſpoil ;
but no reparation is made to the injured ; nay, the crimes
of the miniſter are firſt employed to plunder the people,
and afterwards puniſhed to fill the coffers of the ſovereign,
In this total diſcontinuance of every art that relates
to juſt government and national policy, it is remark-
able, that even the trade of the foldier is itſelf greatly
neglected. Diſtruſt and jealouſy on the part of the
* See Odyſſey
H h 12
prince,
426
Part VI.
Of the Progreſs and
1
prince, come in aid of his ignorance and incapacity; and
theſe cauſes operating together, ſerve to deſtroy the very
foundation on which power is eſtabliſhed. Any undiſci-
plined rout of armed men paſſes for an army, whilft a
weak, diſperſed, and unarmed people, are facrificed to
inilitary diſorder, or expoſed to depredation on the fron-
tier from an enemy, whom the deſire of ſpoil, or the
hopes of conqueft, may have drawn to their neighbour-
hood.
The Romans extended their empire till they left no
poliſhed nation to be ſubdued, and found a frontier which
was every where furrounded by fierce and barbarous
tribes ; they even pierced through uncultivated deſerts, in
order to remove to a greater diſtance the moleſtation of
ſuch troubleſome neighbours, and in order to poſſeſs the
avenues through which they feared their attacks. But
this policy put the finiſhing hand to the internal corrup-
tion of the ſtate. A few years of tranquillity were ſuffi-
cient to make even the government forget its danger ;
and in the cultivated province, prepared for the enemy, a
tempting prize and an eaſy victory.
When by the conqueſt and annexation of every rich
and cultivated province, the meaſure of empire is full,
two parties are ſufficient to comprehend mankind; that
of the pacific and the wealthy, who dwell within the
pale of empire; and that of the poor, the rapacious, and
the fierce, who are inured to depredation and war. The
laft
I
1
.
Sect. 6.
Termination of Deſpotiſm.
427
laſt bear to the firſt nearly the ſame relation which the
wolf and the lion bear to the fold ; and they are naturally
engaged in a ſtate of hoftility.
Were deſpotic empire, mean-time, to continue for ever
unmoleſted from abroad, while it rctains that corruption
on which it was founded, it appears to have in itſelf no
principle of new life, and preſents no hope of reſtoration
to freedom and political vigour. That which the deſpoti-
cal maſter has fowi, cannot quicken unleſs it die; it muſt lan-
guiſh and expire by the effect of its own abuſe, before
the human ſpirit can ſpring up anew, or bear thoſe fruits
which conſtitute the honour and the felicity of human
nature. In times of the greateſt debaſement, indeed, com-
motions are felt; but very unlike the agitations of a free
people: they are either the agonies of nature, under the
ſufferings to which men are expoſed; or mere tumults,
confined to a few who ſtand in arms about the prince,
and who, by their conſpiracies, aſſaſſinations, and mur-
ders, ſerve only to plunge the pacific inhabitant ſtill deeper
in the horrors of fear or deſpair. Scattered in the pro-
vinces, unarmed, unacquainted with the ſentiments of
union and confederacy, reſtricted by habit to a wretched
economy, and dragging a precarious life on thoſe poſſeſſi-
ons which the extortions of government have left ; the
people can no where, under theſe circumſtances, aſſume
the ſpirit of a community, nor form any liberal combina-
tion for their own defence. The injured may complain ;
and while he cannot obtain the mercy of government, he
H h h 2
may,
428
Part VI.
Of the Progreſs and
may implore the coinmiferation of his fellow-ſubject. But
that fellow-ſubject is comforted, that the land of oppref-
ſion has not ſeized on himſelf: he ſtudies his intereſt, or
ſnatches his pleaſure, under that degree of ſafety which
obſcurity and conccalment beſtow.
The commercial arts, which ſeem to require no foun-
dation in the minds of men, but the regard to intereſt ;
no encouragement, but the hopes of gain, and the ſecure
poſſeſſion of property, muſt periſh under the precarious
tenure of Davery, and under the apprehenſion of danger
ariſing from the reputation of wealth. National poverty,
liowever, and the ſuppreſſion of commerce, are the means
by which deſpotiſm comes to accompliſh its own deftruc-
tion. Where there are no longer any profits to corrupt, or
feai's to deter, the charm of dominion is broken, and the
naked ſlave, as awake from a dream, is aſtoniſhed to find
he is free. When the fence is deſtroyed, the wilds are
open, and the herd breaks looſe. The paſture of the culti-
vated field is no longer preferred to that of the deſert.
The ſufferer willingly flies where the extortions of govern-
ment cannot overtake him; where even the timid and the
fervile may recollect they are men ; where the tyrant may
threaten, but where he is known to be no more than a
fellow-crcature ; where he can take nothing but life, and
even this at the hazard of his own.
AGREEABLY to this deſcription, the vexations of ty-
ranny have overcome, in many parts of the Eaſt, the de-
6
fire
1
11
pand
Sect. 6. Termination of Deſpotiſm.
429
fire of ſettlement. The inhabitants of a village quit their..
habitations, and infeſt the public ways; thoſe of the val-
leys fly to the mountains, and, equipt for flight, or pof-
feſſed of a ſtrong hold, fubfift by depredation, and by the
war they make on their former maſters.
These diſorders confpire with the impoſitions of go-
vernment to render the remaining ſettlements ſtill leſs
ſecure: but while devaſtation and ruin appear on every
fide, mankind are forced anew upon thoſe confederacies,
acquire again that perſonal confidence and vigour, that
ſocial attachment, that uſe of arms, which, in former .
times, rendered a ſmall tribe the ſeed of a great nation ;
and which may again enable the emancipated lave to be-
gin the career of civil and commercial arts. W1hcn hu-.
man nature appears in the utmoſt ſtate of corruption, it
has actually begun to reform.
4
In this manner the ſcenes of human life have been
frequently ſhifted. Security and preſumption forfeit the
advantages of proſperity ; reſolution and conduct retrieve
the ills of adverſity; and mankind, while they have no-
thing on which to rely but their virtue, are prepared to
gain every advantage ; and while they confide moſt in
their good fortune, are moſt expoſed to feel its reverſe.
We are apt to draw theſe obſervations into rule ; and
when we are no longer willing to act for our country,
we plead in excuſe of our own weakneſs or folly, a ſup...
poſed fatality in human affairs.
TRE
7
[
430
Part VI.
Of the Progreſs, &c.
The inſtitutions of men, if not calculated for the preſer-
vation of virtue, are, indeed, likely to have an end as well
as a beginning: but ſo long as they are effectual to this
purpoſe, they have at all times an equal principle of life
which nothing but external force can ſuppreſs; no nation
ever ſuffered internal decay but from the vice of its
members. We are ſometimes willing to acknowledge this
vice in our countrymen ; but who was ever willing to
acknowledge it in himſelf? It may be ſuſpected; how-
ever, that we do more than acknowledge it, when we
ceaſe to oppoſe its effects, and when we plead a fatality,
which, at leaſt, in the breaſt of every individual, is de-
pendent on himſelf. Men of real fortitude,
, integrity,
and ability, are well placed in every ſcene; they reap, in
every condition, the principal enjoyments of their nature ;
they are the happy inſtruments of providence employed
for the good of mankind ; or, if we muſt change this
language, they ſhow, that while they are deſtined to live,
the ſtates they compoſe are likewiſe doomed by the fates
to ſurvive, and to proſper.
Τ Η Ε
EN D.
.
t
។
一
​1
身
​4
4
一
​i
1
.
1
}
*/
}
1
}
4
4
{
}
1
中
​f
}
1
1
:
t
1
1
}
|
.
11
HG
|
-
1.
1
*
12
:::
+
번
​